


Handle With Care

by Kayasurin



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Bunny Enjoys it so it's Okay, But He Gets Better, Guardians Assume, Jack Blows Up, Jack is a Possessive Bastard, M/M, Nearly Major Character Death, Trust Issues, Vengence Will Be Jack's, slow build relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-07 08:51:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 50,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1892832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayasurin/pseuds/Kayasurin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, this story has been inspired by <a href="http://rotg-kink.dreamwidth.org/2200.html?thread=2906264#cmt2906264">two</a> <a href="http://rotg-kink.dreamwidth.org/2389.html?thread=4274261#cmt4274261">prompts</a>. But be careful, because reading the prompts might lead to spoilers.</p><p>Pooka can die of a broken heart. Unfortunately, Bunny and Jack get into something of an argument. Things are said, and Bunny accepts the inevitable.</p><p>Jack doesn't.</p><p>**Adding warnings for Graphic Descriptions of Illness. I know it says violence up there, but trust me, it's messy enough without punching and kicking.**</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fatal Fury

"Ah, Jack!" North advanced with his arms flung wide. Jack froze in place, conflicting instincts and wants and the usual confusion all tangled together, until North grabbed him in a bear hug that involved spine-go-pop noises and a distinct lack of breathing on Jack's part.

Jack squeaked, and wiggled until he got one arm free of the death-hug. He pushed on North's face, until he was finally dropped onto the ground. "I am, like, a third your weight. A fourth your weight." He frowned, deliberately, at North's gut. "A fifth your weight?"

"Hah! Is very funny," North grumbled. " _Very_ funny, and comments like that are why you are being on naughty list. So!" He clapped one hand on Jack's shoulder. The winter spirit's knees almost buckled. "I have small gift for you!"

"Another one?" Jack rubbed his shoulder, and moved a careful distance away from North. First Sandy, with... he wasn't quite sure what it was. A hat? A miniature boat? Some kind of space age blanket folded up in a way he couldn't figure out how to unfold? Then Tooth, who'd given him books. The kind of books that made him blush frost until his hair stood up in spikes, with an extra three inches in length thanks to all the ice. There'd been an illustrated Kama Sutra, and then Japanese pillow books, and what looked like something from China, and... Well. Yeah.

Sure, Jack was a guy, and still had the teenage hormones a-plenty, but he preferred to not read about that sort of thing. In his time, a guy just didn't read that sort of thing in public, at least not in the class of society Jack had been born to.

Besides, it was, technically, porn. Given to him by a very good, female friend. And just as technically, it wasn't the kind of porn Jack preferred.

The kind of porn Jack preferred involved library computers, careful fiddling with privacy filters, and wiping the browser history after he'd finished browsing. But he sure wasn't about to tell Tooth that.

Talking about one's sexual preferences with anyone, let alone someone of the opposite gender, also wasn't something that'd been talked about in Jack's social class.

Either of them.

He shoved the thought aside, and eyed North sidelong. "So," he asked. "Just, uh, why am I getting presents, lately, again?"

The others were already waiting, clustered near the globe and the aurora controls. Tooth and Sandy both beamed at him. Bunny looked more restrained, but politely happy to see Jack. Which was a lot better than hostile, or the standoffish and polite he'd been a while there. And no more judgmental eyes, which was the best.

"Oh, is just a small thing I think you can use," North said. If he'd been anyone other than Santa, Jack would've called that expression a smirk.

On second thought, Santa or not, that was a smirk. A devious, sly little smirk, directed as much at Bunny as at Jack, and what the hell was with that?

Jack eyed the small package warily. Gift bag. Tissue paper, somehow done in that artful way no one human or sane could ever properly replicate. A small card, which said "Jack Frost" on one side in glittery blue pen, and "Enjoy!" on the other.

To ice, or not to ice, that was the question... Jack shifted the tissue paper aside, and pulled out a bottle of... brown lotion? He sniffed at the lid, and raised one eyebrow. "Chocolate?"

Did Bunny twitch, at that? Was he staring intently at the bottle, as unreadable as ever? Was North smirking even more? Was Tooth hiding a giggle behind one hand? Was Sandy shaking his head and face palming?

Yes. To all of it.

Jack carefully - as carefully as if he were handling an unexploded yet primed grenade - turned the bottle over. There was a label on the other side.

He felt his expression freeze into the careful non-expression he used when there was no way to avoid talking with Mother Nature. "Chocolube," he said, voice just as non-expression. Like one of those robo-phone answering things. "By Sweet Temptations."

He put the bottle back into the bag, non-expression-ing the entire time so much it hurt. Then he put the bag on the floor. His hands were white knuckled, even though he was holding his staff in only one hand, and the other was empty.

"North," he said, and then had to stop. North looked pleased. Tooth looked amused. Sandy looked rueful and amused. Bunny was staring at the bag, and Jack could actually _read_ that expression.

His heart was pounding a mile a minute. Jack reminded himself that words had more effect than just summoning a lightning bolt. Then he reminded himself that other spirits got cranky when he did that, and he didn't need to get into a fight with a few thunder gods of various pantheons. He finally reminded himself that summoning lightning bolts gave him the worst headache ever suffered and he'd sworn it off after killing that one wendigo.

He finally reminded himself that he was indoors and he wasn't yet sure blowing out all the windows was an appropriate response.

Jack shifted so he was holding his staff with _both_ hands, and kept the butt firmly grounded on the floor. "North, why did you give me chocolate-flavored lube?"

"Oh, well." North glanced over at Bunny, and looked smugger than ever. "Was my idea it could come in use, yes? After all, you and Bunny-"

Oh. _Oh_.

"We aren't," Jack said, quietly. North didn't hear him - that was the quiet part, Jack supposed - and just kept rambling on about how surprised he'd been when Bunny had talked to him, and how pleased, and how this, that, and the other thing.

He felt sick. He actually felt physically sick. He was so angry his stomach was churning and there was the taste of bile at the back of his mouth and he actually looked out the window to check that the weather wasn't matching his mood. Yet.

The problem with being one of the Great Manitous - which was to say, manifest spirits of a thing, like giant volcanoes, rivers, deserts, and in Jack's case, the winter season itself - sometimes his emotions had effects on the weather that were otherwise unpredictable.

It was still a bright, clear day up in the Arctic Circle. Jack figured that would change in, oh, point-two minutes? Give or take point-two minutes or so?

"Stop," he said. North didn't hear him that time, either, just kept rambling on and on. Tooth did, though. She stopped giggling, stopped grinning, and stared at Jack with an expression as though she'd finally noticed that oh, no, Jack wasn't smiling and nodding and being cutely embarrassed.

Jack took several deep breaths, but it didn't help. His heart was still pounding away, and the bile was still sloshing back and forth in his stomach. The non-expression was seriously hurting, but it was also the only reason he hadn't frozen North to the spot, so.

He looked from Tooth, to Sandy who had clearly tuned North out and just as clearly was paying more attention to the elf trying to taste dreamsand than to Jack. Bunny looked horrified. Jack had no idea why. It wasn't like North had given _him_ chocolate lube and verbal blessing to a union he hadn't agreed to.

Jack snarled when North started talking about wedding dates.

The snarl got their attention. If only because it didn't sound remotely human. Or mammalian. Or animal.

Rather more like an enraged glacier scraping super-speed over frozen rock and earth. Hurt the throat, but there were times weird noises were worth it.

North stopped mid-word, and Jack was suddenly the focus of, oh, everybody? From the elves to the yeti to all of the Guardians, everyone was staring at him.

"North," he said, quiet again, to the point where some of the yeti leaned forward to better hear him. "Where did you get this... idea... that Bunny and I are a couple?"

He turned and stared at Bunny for emphasis, non-expression firmly in place but doing nothing to hide the fact that he was glaring. Bunny stared at Jack, eyes wide and expression unreadable, as usual. It was the fur. Jack blamed the fur, and the ears, and the nose, and the whiskers, and the fact that Jack wasn't exactly socialized and neither was Bunny.

At this point in time, it just made him want to hit something. Very hard. In the face. Preferably Bunny.

"Ah, well," North blustered. "When Bunny came to talk to me-"

"Bunny?" Jack asked, continuing with being quiet. Quiet was good. Quiet meant he was still in control, despite the thoughts of lightning, air pressure, wind shear, and a lot of other stuff that was normally kept to a useful and instinctive level.

"Bunny talked with all of us," North said. Now he sounded defensive, yes, because that was smart. "He-"

Jack tapped his staff against the floor. Ice immediately spread from the contact, moving fast enough that in the space of a blink, the floor, the walls, even part of the ceiling was coated in the sparkly white stuff. Jack stared at North, non-expression gone. Whatever expression he was showing, though, shut the old man up right quick. And made him back up several steps, the thick frost crunching under his boot heels.

Jack turned the expression on Tooth and Sandy, who both pulled back from it, and then looked at Bunny.

Horrified was a good word, Jack thought, for the rabbit's expression. Jack took hold of his staff with both hands again.

"And just what," Jack said, all but shaking with the need to keep his voice down and not yell. "What made you think that I would go along with this? That I would just smile, and nod, and say 'why yes I will be yours' when _I don't know you_. I might not be gay. I might not be into _fur_. I might, in fact, have a significant other.

"But no, clearly none of that occurred to you, because you're the Easter Bunny. One of the Big Four, Guardian of Hope, protector of children, who would ever say no to you? I should be falling all over myself, eager to be your... what. Plaything?"

Jack pressed his lips together, waiting. Bunny would answer. Jack would reply. They would argue, and the white rage building in his chest would get a bit of the pressure off, enough that he could head to Antarctica later and not kill anyone with the ensuing storm.

Bunny opened and closed his mouth like a landed fish, not saying anything.

He didn't say _anything_.

Lightning looked more and more appealing with every passing second.

If Jack clenched his teeth any harder, they'd shatter.

"What the hell?" he asked, voice rising despite how hard he was trying to stay quiet. Stay in control. "What the fucking hell? Have you lost that excuse you've got for a _mind_? You can't just declare me your - _yours_ \- without asking me first! That's wrong! And you!" He swung in the others' direction; by this point he couldn't see. There were white clouds swirling in front of his vision, snow whipped up by immortal fury.

"You never _questioned_ it? Just went _along_ with it? What, my opinion doesn't matter? I have my _own_ wants, my _own_ desires, and I can assure you, they don't involve one overgrown, self-centered, moronic excuse for a rabbit!"

He had to stop, because if he kept going someone was going to die. He didn't want to kill anyone. Not quite.

Who the hell was he kidding? He didn't want to kill anyone because he wasn't sure he'd be able to _stop_.

"J-Jack," Tooth said, stuttering only a little. He glared in the direction of her voice, huffing and puffing like a thwarted bull. "We thought - that is -"

"What?" He pointed his staff in her direction. "You thought I'd be _happy_? Like you thought I'd be _overjoyed_ at being made a Guardian? Do you people have _any_ _idea_ -" He closed his eyes, because the swirling white was getting stronger. And closer.

"You. Took. _My_. Choice. From. Me." Each word was a challenge to get out. He didn't want to _talk_. He didn't want to _yell_. He wanted - but apparently what he wanted didn't matter. He clutched his staff like the lifeline it was. "You got _one_ pass on that. One. _No_ more."

He turned blindly and glared at where he remembered Bunny standing. " _You_."

"Jack?" Bunny's voice quavered. "Jack, I - let me explain, please."

"Explain what?" Explain _what_? You couldn't explain this! "That you didn't think enough of me to consider - that in _your_ high and mighty opinion, _my_ wants don't matter? That _I_ don't matter? I don't even know you! You sure as fuck don't know me! How dare you? How _dare_ you? You don't make decisions for me! No one does!"

He stopped again, panting and trembling with the need to let the swirling white free. Let the snow consume them! Let the cold slice into their bones! Let them beg for mercy, because he sure wasn't going to give them any!

No. That was too good for them.

"I hate you," he said, nearly whispering. "I _hate_ all of you, but you, rabbit, you I hate most of all." Bunny gasped. Good. "Go fuck yourself. With a dead _fish_! After '68 - you broke my _ribs_. And then yelled at _me_ when I'd done _nothing_ to you or your holiday! And you really think, after that, I'd want to be friends? Or - more? I won't touch you with a fifty-foot barge pole!"

Jack backed up until he was, more or less, under the skylight. It made a good entrance for the Moon's light, but it'd make just as good an exit. "Follow me and die," he said.

Then he jumped straight up. The instant he cleared the roof, he let a little of his control slip. Just enough that the building storm hit with a vengeance. Lightning struck, electricity flowing through his veins. His rage fed the wind and the clouds, until he had no idea if the swirling white was his anger or just all that could be _seen_.

"Wind!" he screamed. "Antarctica!"

The yeti and elves, at least, did not deserve to have their home destroyed. Much as he would have liked seeing pieces of the workshop scattered across the landscape, he'd hold back. Leave. Go to the South Pole and let his fury feed the storm.

And if anyone did try to follow him, well...

The human body was mostly water. He was _very_ good at freezing water.

It would be better if they didn't try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set a year to a year and a half after the movie. Just FYI.  
> Hopefully this shouldn't be too long. I've got seven chapters pre-written, and I think it's about halfway there? A third? Two fifths? Thereabouts. We shall see.
> 
> Also, yes, I did include those prompt links, but if you look at them it might cause spoilers. Fair warning.


	2. So Far Apart

Aster slumped back against the railing, heart pounding. The walls to all sides and the roof overhead vibrated. As for the wind - the wind did not scream, or roar, or thunder. The sound it made had gone beyond mere _noise_. The thunder was quiet compared to the wind.

It wasn't possible to _hear_ anything. It left him isolated. Alone.

It really should have been a more familiar sensation, that.

He'd been alone for as long as he could remember, one way or the other. He'd been the only son of a Pookan diplomat, then an orphan, and then the only Pooka in his years away in the Tsar's schools. The Pookan nobility hadn't wanted anything to do with him; the merchants, the farmers, the craftsmen, they'd been below his rank and so bowed and mouthed pleasantries and hated him. He'd done well in school, because he hadn't had friends, so he'd spent all his time studying. Then he'd joined the army, the only Pooka all through training, the only one with fur and at-times inconvenient instincts and then the war had started up, and everyone around him had died, and... Well.

If he didn't make friends, he didn't have to suffer losing them.

Everyone - everyone Pooka, that was - knew that a broken heart was lethal. A _truly_ broken heart; no hope, no joy, no wonder, no dreams, nothing to carry a person through one gray, dismal day into the next. Mere breakups weren't enough; the deaths of family and friends were survivable. But some things cut deeper than others, and some things just shattered a bloke to pieces.

The way Jack had just shattered Aster's heart.

He'd thought... Jack was lovely; beautiful, in an odd way. More than a touch of coltish grace about him, with long, gangly limbs and a smile too big for his face, but he moved with the refinement of a ballet dancer and the attitude of a... what were they called, punk skater boys? He was always laughing, always smiling, and Aster had found himself starting to smile back, and he'd thought that maybe, maybe...

Jack was powerful, like he was, and tied to something intangible, like he was, and he had believers, the number of which doubled and tripled every winter. Jack hadn't died after three centuries alone. He was a survivor, one who brought joy with him as much as he brought the frost. Aster had watched, and wondered, and resolved to go slowly. There was plenty of bad blood between him and Jack, questions that had never been answered and insults never apologized for, and he didn't even know if he _wanted_ more than just friendship.

Well, alright, honestly he _did_ , because it'd been a damn long time since he'd last had a lover and the body wasn't satisfied with hands.

He just didn't know if _love_ , the kind that led to bonding, would ever be a factor.

Clearly, he thought, as the wind threatened to tear the roof off, it wouldn't be a factor. Jack hated him, after all.

Jack... _hated_ him.

Aster pressed a hand to his chest, and imagined he could feel the cracks begin to spread.

* * *

"Bunny!" Tooth shook him by the shoulder. Aster blinked, and twitched an ear. The wind had died down to a low howl, with the occasional burst of thunder. It was now possible to hear each other, if they all yelled.

"What?" he asked. Tooth looked a bit wild about the eyes, but it was hard to care about that. Or about how his fingers had gone numb.

She tugged on his arm. "We need to talk."

As compared to what, yell? Aster followed after her, if only because resisting took more effort than he could muster the energy for.

He stumbled down the stairs, only his grip on the railing and Tooth's hold on his arm keeping him upright. The workshop was in disarray; while most of the storm shutters had been pulled over the windows, a few hadn't, and where the glass had been left unprotected, well... There were hailstones the size of baseballs several meters in, and drifts of snow as high as Aster's waist by every shattered window.

"Basement is untouched," North offered, looking around the wreckage. He looked stunned, as though the enormity of what had happened had yet to catch up.

Aster rubbed his chest, which throbbed with each bleeding beat of his heart. He kept quiet, because what was there to say?

Everything was over, now.

What was the point in talking about it?

He forewent the steep stairs - more like a ladder with especially thick rungs set at enough of an angle to walk down - and simply jumped. It'd take a bit before he couldn't do _that_ , at least.

"Well," North said, and lit the emergency oil lantern. The flickering light mixed with Sandy's glow in an odd, not entirely unpleasant way. Aster knew he'd normally be studying the play of light and shadows and what it did to his friends' faces, but at the moment... no.

That, too, was lost to him now.

Sandy flicked his sand through several shapes, all of which conveyed his confusion. Tooth nodded.

"I just don't understand," she murmured. "Well, okay, your present was definitely over the line, North!"

Aster blinked. "You've been giving Jack prezzies?"

"Well," Tooth said, wings flicking back. "Yes. Of course. You told us the two of you were together! Why shouldn't we?" She folded her arms. "Were you stretching the truth, Bunny?"

They thought... "I never," he breathed. His heart ached, broken but trying to hold up to the emotions flowing through him. "I was asking your permission to _court_ him. Like is proper!"

North blanched. "Only that?"

Aster's jaw didn't, quite, drop. "You thought it a good idea to give Jack - _Jack_ \- chocolate lube?" He pressed a hand to his mouth, the better to stifle the hysterical giggles that threatened to emerge. "Just _who'd_ be using it? I can't have chocolate, and Jack's not in a relationship, and he _hates_ me because you had to go poking your noses where they weren't needed or wanted!"

North cleared his throat, but didn't look at Aster. "You came in telling me you were in relationship-"

" _No_. No, I didn't. I remember saying something along the lines of 'would you mind if Jack and I were together, hypothetically?' and you said no, you didn't mind." Aster closed his eyes and breathed deeply around the pain. "Where, in that, is me saying 'give Jack a gift of chocolate lube'?"

He slumped back against a convenient stack of boxes, and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. "I don't even know if I fancy Jack like that..."

No one said anything after that; Aster couldn't think of anything to say, and perhaps the others were struck dumb for the same reason. He shifted, as much to keep his balance as because he wasn't so far gone he couldn't feel awkward, and a splinter from one of the boxes managed to get through his fur and stick his shoulder. He jumped, dislodging the splinter, and also prodding him into action.

"I'm going home," he said, the pieces of his heart lying heavy in his chest. "I..." He closed his mouth and shook his head.

"Bunny," Tooth said, very quietly. "We're so sorry."

Temper shot through him, there and gone like the flower of a night-blooming cereus. _Sorry_ wasn't going to calm Jack down. _Sorry_ wasn't going to fix things.

Sorry wouldn't keep him from _dying_.

He shook his head again. It didn't matter now. No point in explaining things. There wasn't anything they could do. Not even Jack, at this point.

He tapped open a tunnel, and dropped in.

The flower that sprang up when the tunnel closed was already wilting.

* * *

Jack didn't lift his head from his arms. Of course, the woman who intruded on his - call it what it was, his brooding sulk - was hardly going to be stopped by a little thing like _ill manners_.

"You are disturbing the locals," Mother Nature said.

Jack held very still. Displays of emotion only annoyed the Manitou - or whatever - of, well, _nature_. Some minor winter spirit had explained it to him, back in the early days. She was old, as old as the planet, it was said. Utterly detached from the world and the people in it. Most of the time - thankfully - she didn't notice anything going on around her. To someone who thought the rise and fall of mountains took a single day, the frenetic activity of mortals and comparatively short-lived spirits wasn't even noticeable.

"It is impolite," Mother Nature said.

Jack looked up at that. "My apologies," he said, careful not to let any of his feelings leak into his voice. "My thought was only that this place is remote, and unlikely to notice a storm made rather than born."

The woman tilted her head to one side. Her physical features were hard to focus on, simply because of the sheer weight her age and power put on everything. She was as featureless as a mannequin because of it, though he had the impression of hair and frighteningly blank eyes, and an old fashioned dress that wouldn't have been out of place in Greece.

"Perhaps so, perhaps no," she replied. "Why bring a killing child out of season?"

Ah, right, storms were her children. Jack kept his lips from twisting in distaste, but only just. "My - you know the Guardians of Childhood?"

"I know Bunnymund and Sanderson," she said. "The other two are young."

Jack hissed, the sound more like snow hitting a hot rock. "They thought I would whore myself out to Bunny!"

Mother Nature looked vaguely confused, or he thought she did. "Bunnymund would never allow that," she said. "He is honorable. How did this come about?"

He stared up at her, but she did not get impatient; she never did. "Well," Jack said, once he'd shoved his upset to the side. "He told the others that we were, that..." He clenched his teeth so hard, it sent spikes of pain into his jaw.

"Perhaps he was staking a claim," she mused. "You are quite powerful, shepherd of my children. It would not be considered untoward for Bunnymund to make his interest known, and so warn off competition."

Assuming he wanted Bunny in the first place. Jack unclenched his teeth, and looked away.

"He would not force you," Mother Nature said, sounding uneasy for the first time. "The others are too young to understand, and Sanderson..." She made a dismissive sound. "Sand cannot understand the emotions of those flesh and blood."

And she could? On the other hand... Jack sighed, most of his anger draining out of him, like snow melting in the spring sun. He did grimace at his mental comparison. "I just... I wouldn't have been so upset if he'd talked to me _first_."

"But that is not how it was done," Mother Nature said. "First others were warned, so that the intended could make their decision without pressure."

"Times have changed," Jack pointed out. He firmed his chin. "He should have asked me, first. Like I care what other people say or think?"

"But you do."

"I don't!" Jack let himself snarl, just once, before regaining control. Mother Nature didn't react to his lapse, thankfully, just continued to stare at him. "I - they ignored me, the whole damn spirit world, for three hundred years! Why would I care about what they think?"

"Validation of your existence," Mother Nature said. "Defining your sense of self by what others approve or disapprove of, depending on your views of them. For most people, external validation is all of what and who they are. Every person has his Achilles' heel psychologically, the self-image they nurture. Disturb that image, which is like the skin of a balloon, formed by external validation, there is a loud bang and then... nothing. Or madness," she allowed.

"That is your opinion," he said. "Not mine."

"Be that as it may. You may also view it simply as negative attention being better than none."

Jack looked away. "So, in your opinion, Bunny never meant to imply I was his, lock, stock, and barrel?"

Mother Nature sounded odd, when she spoke next. "In my opinion," she said, speaking slowly enough Jack turned to look at her. "He was implying that he was yours, lock, stock, and barrel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what was nice? Not ONE of you guys thought Bunny was to blame, which means I was able to convey everything so very nicely last chapter... yay! It's the little things that make me happy!
> 
> Also- Fourth of July makes a lovely excuse to post out of schedule (supposed to be every Thursday) because I wanted to thank you all for the blush-inducing kind words. Here. Have a chapter! (Come to the dark side!)


	3. I Will Shut Down

Jack hadn't thought he'd miss the other Guardians as much as he did. It was foolish; he did _not_ want to see them. The thought of facing Sandy, or Tooth, or _North_... It made his fists clench, all involuntarily, and his anger always threatened to change the weather. It was summer, now, and winter storms were definitely out of season.

And he didn't want to draw the summer spirits' attention. None of them were seasonal manitous; the closest was a scary-powerful 'sun' spirit, who'd thankfully never talked to him. Even so, there was something of a - a camaraderie between the Great Manitous, or those as strong as them. If Jack hadn't been welcomed into that select group, he hadn't been unwelcome, either. Just... young. If he let word slip of what the Guardians had assumed and done, well...

Summer spirits had some of the quickest tempers he knew of. Not the hottest; that, ironically, went to winter spirits, who - himself aside - tended to go about revenge and vengeance slow and careful, making sure their victims suffered. Summer spirits were all flash and show, but the instant one of them started going off about how the Guardians had tried to whore Jack out, the other spirits would find out, and...

Well, then the other Great Manitous would get involved, and things would get bad, fast.

Just because the other Great Manitous didn't like him - didn't know him well enough to like him, or dislike him - didn't mean they'd tolerate such a misstep.

Better if he just avoided the trio he was doing his best not to think about or miss.

And Bunny... the Easter Guardian was avoiding him, apparently, because Jack hadn't seen so much as a tuft of shed fur, let alone the actual being in question. He supposed it was for the best. He wouldn't have known what to say, or do, or how to react, seeing Bunny in the flesh. He'd said some things, that, in hindsight, were pretty unfair.

Or untrue.

In an obscure sort of way, it was kind of flattering. Someone wanted _him_ , Jack freaking Frost, of all the other possible options in the world! Not only that, but it was Bunny, of all people! He'd heard the gossip, now and then; Bunny was quite the catch if the gossipers were right.

Mother Nature had said Bunny hadn't meant it the way the others had taken it. In hindsight... yeah, he could see it. Bunny would've said to them "leave Jack alone, I'm interested, time to see if it'll go somewhere," and the others would've started hearing wedding bells.

Tooth and North were way out of practice with this little thing called 'socialization', and Sandy had probably gotten swept up in the insanity. Dream logic, and all.

Kind of sad when the eternal teenager who'd gone without conversation for decades at a time was better socialized than the freaking Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus, but there it was.

Jack sighed, and made a face at the way his breath puffed out, visible in the humid air. Emotions, emotions, always getting out of control...

It'd been three months. He couldn't avoid them forever. And he did miss them. Even if they _were_ dorks, they were still his friends. Tooth was always so bright and happy, like bubbles against his skin. And her mini-fairies - sure, they tried to climb in his mouth all the time, but he didn't really mind a feather or two in his mouth. And North, his enthusiasm for everything and anything was like basking next to a nice, warm fire, all snuggled up in a comfy blanket and with a mug of hot cocoa with marshmallows, all to himself. Sandy was like his dreamsand, bright and flowing like silk over the skin, faintly cool just from the sensation.

And Bunny... Jack chewed on his bottom lip. Bunny was... sneaky, that was it. He'd be going on and on about duty and responsibility and deadlines and workloads and all the while there'd be this sly sort of not-an-expression, like he'd wink at Jack while North's back was turned, or burst into laughter when Tooth sighed and rolled her eyes, or help Jack sneak out for ice cream and snowball fights when Sandy was trying to tell one of his (long and confusing and extremely hard to follow) stories. Of course, he never did, but there was that sense to him, that feel.

He'd been very mean to Bunny, who deserved it the least. But, even just thinking about going and apologizing made Jack's stomach squirm and tie itself into knots.

And besides. Some of what he'd said was true! It wasn't like the Guardians were used to hearing 'no'. They'd shanghaied him into being a Guardian - well, everyone but Bunny had. He'd helped get Jack to the North Pole, but he'd been against making Jack a Guardian. The others, well, when Jack had protested, North had waved the protests off, Tooth had explained the very obvious as though that would change his mind, and Sandy... had argued with elves over eggnog, best he could remember.

Sure, Bunny had been nasty, but he'd apologized later. Okay, a few months later, after a few of the now-mandatory, monthly meetings they had - that Jack had missed deliberately these past three months - when they'd had a talk about their reactions. Jack had explained how he'd felt, hearing Bunny tell him he was invisible, and Bunny had explained both his temper _("It's a nasty one. I tend to run me mouth without letting the brain have an input. Bad habit, but what can you do?")_ and how he'd seen Jack's comments as an attack at himself, his friends, and his role in life.

Bunny had been the most honest of all of them, or at least the most willing to let Jack make up his own mind.

Jack hopped off the tree branch, and let the Wind whisk him over to another. He'd spent most of the three months at his lake, near Burgess. Strangely enough, the others never came here looking for him; apparently they thought it was too warm, so they were focusing their efforts on mountain peaks and permanent glaciers. Or at least, that's what the Wind whispered to him, when he cared to listen.

"Maybe I'll go to the next meeting," he told the wind. His heart lurched, and he clenched his fists. " _After_ I've done a few pranks."

The Wind ruffled his hair, and then brought the sound of a young girl singing "Jack Frost now, Jack Frost now" to him. It sounded like Sophie.

He couldn't help but smile. Sophie - or anyone - wanted to see him? Who was he to disappoint? "Alright, Wind," he said. "Take me to her!"

It wasn't a very long flight. It _was_ Sophie, who was skipping in a circle in the backyard, the dog Abby prancing along behind her. Jamie was keeping an eye on the situation. Jack grinned, and dropped down onto the fence.

"Jack!" Sophie squealed, leaving off her skipping to run for the fence. Abby barked, and charged, knocking Sophie down. Jack was there before she'd hit the ground, catching her and holding her up. Sophie sniffled once or twice, and then flung her arms around Jack's neck, holding tight.

"Jack!"

"Hey, Sophie." He stood up, the girl supported by one arm. "Jamie! What's shaking, kid?"

Jamie grinned at Jack. "Leaves on the trees, Abby's tail, that sort of thing."

"Brat." He walked over to the kid, and leaned his staff against the side of the house. With one hand free, he was able to ruffle Jamie's hair. "No, really."

Jamie chewed his lower lip, so much like Jack that the winter spirit did a double take. "Um, actually, Tooth wanted to talk to you?"

Jack stiffened. "Tooth asked you to summon me?"

Sophie grabbed a handful of hair, and yanked. "Jack! Jack play?"

"Argh, Sophie!"

He freed his hair from the girl, and set her down. "In a minute. First I need to talk with your brother." Jack turned a quasi-stern look on the boy. "Where's Tooth?"

"Um..." Jamie looked up without actually moving his head.

"Jack?"

Of. Course. Jack closed his eyes and counted to ten. And then again in several of the Algonquian dialects he knew. Sauk-Fox and Kickapoo were good for counting and insults, but he could still hold entire conversations in Shawnee. And then he counted to ten yet again, this time backwards in German.

He looked up at the Tooth Fairy, now in sight instead of hiding in the overlarge tree-bush-thing in the Bennett's back garden.

In the back of his mind, a little voice said Bunny would know exactly what the plant was, but Jack shoved it aside with long practice. Talking to himself only led to a lecture from Mother Nature about why it was so important to stay sane and not have hallucinations.

"What do you want, Tooth?"

Tooth cleared her throat, and dropped down onto the fence, rather like Jack had. He couldn't help but scowl at that; perching on things was his little quirk. He didn't like sharing, even in something so small.

Absently, he wondered if Bunny knew exactly how possessive and territorial Jack could be. Even more than Bunny was about Easter, as no few winter spirits had found out to their cost. It was one of the main reasons why Jack had never stopped wearing clothes; they were _his_ , as North America was _his_ , and heaven help whoever tried to mess with that.

"We've been looking for you, Jack," Tooth said quietly. "It's been months."

"Do you think maybe there was a reason for that?" He caught up his staff again, and thumped the butt against the ground. He was almost surprised at how hard it was not to let go with the ice. He refrained, if only to keep Mr. and Mrs. Bennett from wondering why their lawn had died. "I'm still angry with you."

Tooth cringed, and looked away. "Yes. You, um, Bunny explained how we went... much too far."

"You _think_?" Jack clamped his lips shut to keep from yelling about the 'gifts'. The kids were listening, after all. "You really think those were appropriate presents? _Really_? I look fourteen!"

"Actually," Jamie said, "I've always thought you look sixteen."

Jack shot him a dumbfounded look over one shoulder. "Where'd you get that from?"

"Well, how old are you?" Jamie asked.

"That's not the point."

"That means you don't want to admit your age." Jamie looked over at Sophie. "You ask. He always answers you."

"That's Bunny," Jack murmured absently. "And I think I was seventeen or eighteen." No one had really paid much attention to someone's age after they took first communion. There'd always been something more important to do, like make ends meet. You were adult when you'd established yourself, becoming a journeyman, building your own little house (with help), things like that.

Jack rubbed at his jaw line, where there were never any bristles that needed scraped off. Heck, he might even have been nineteen, he sort of remembered shaving now and then to keep the diseased-beard look from scaring off the village girls.

Tooth cleared her throat. "We, that is, the three of us, we wanted to apologize."

"Not Bunny?" Jack asked sharply. Why _wouldn't_ Bunny want to apologize? Because he thought he'd been entirely in the right? Like the fur, or the bad history, or the fact that they were the same gender, wouldn't _matter_ once he made his interest clear?

"Bunny's avoiding us," Tooth said, and sighed. "He was upset at how we took his... comments."

"Gee, wonder why? Maybe because you didn't _think_? You _assumed_? You decided to give me freaking _sex_ _gifts_ when no one sane _ever_ gives their friends that sort of thing?" At least, not as far as he knew.

Sophie whimpered, probably because Jack was shouting at the end. Jack bit back a few other things he wanted to say, and turned to her and Jamie.

"Hey, hey kiddo, stop crying," he said, and held out one hand. "I'm not mad at you, shhhh, that's it, look at me now..."

Jamie poked him in the side of the head. " _What_ kind of gifts?"

"Definitely not the kind you want to ask your parents about," Jack told him.

"Huh." Jamie thought about it. "So, if I have questions, ask you?"

"If you have questions, write them down and then wait five or six years. Then I'll answer."

Jamie frowned, and began counting on his fingers. No doubt to figure out how old he'd be in five or six years.

Sophie stopped whimpering, and sniffled at him. "Jack mad?"

"Yeah, but not at you."

Her bottom lip wobbled. "Jack _sad_?" she asked, as though that were worse than anger.

Jack sighed, and stroked her hair. "I'm fine, Sophie. Hey, why don't you and Jamie play with Abby? I'm just going to talk to Tooth now, okay?"

Sophie considered that, and then nodded. She grabbed Jamie by the hand and tugged.

"Argh, Sophie!" Jamie gave Jack an annoyed look. "You'll come when we call, right?"

"Of course. Have I ever not?" Jack paused, and added, "Without very good reason?"

"No..."

"Well then." He ruffled the kid's hair again, and jerked his head towards the dog. "Go play."

"Okay, Jack." Jamie hugged him about the neck, which encouraged Sophie to do the same, with the addition of a big, wet kiss to the cheek. He rubbed the slobber off with the back of his wrist, and kept an eye on the two until they were happily distracted by Abby's antics. Only then did he turn to Tooth, sobering.

"Right. Let's go somewhere no one will hear when I yell."

Tooth winced at that, but nodded. "Come on." She led the way back to Jack's forest, though not his lake. They perched at the top of a large oak tree, Jack much more at ease amongst the branches than she was.

It was absurd to feel proud of that little fact.

"So," Tooth said, and visibly braced herself. "Yelling."

Jack scowled, and deliberately let go of a few careful fetters. "It was stupid," he spat, the Wind responding to his agitation and blowing harder. "It was stupid, and cruel, and - and _stupid_! What the _hell_ were you thinking? Who the _hell_ thinks giving someone _sex books_ is a good idea? And Sandy's - boat thing - and North! Oooh, don't even get me started on North, don't you dare warn him, because I'll be damned if I let him off the hook for that!"

"Um," Tooth said, and hesitantly raised one hand. "Sandy's 'boat thing' was just a blanket. One of those space blankets. He thought that you and Bunny might enjoy... stargazing... somewhere high up and cold, and Bunny doesn't like being cold..."

Jack stared at her until she fell silent. "A blanket," he said, after a minute. "Really?"

"Really," she confirmed.

"It didn't look like it."

"I suppose it wouldn't."

"I thought it was some weird sex toy, after..." He gestured vaguely. "After North."

"Um." Tooth bit her lip. "I can see why you'd think that."

"I threw them all in the ocean."

"Even the books?" Tooth asked, cringing a bit more. "They were first editions..."

Jack shrugged. "I think one of the Selch caught them up. Good luck getting them back. If it's the one I figure, he's got a wife and three mistresses to keep amused."

"Three...?"

"You were apologizing?"

Tooth nodded. "Yes. We were. I... I'm so, so sorry, Jack. We got carried away, and we hurt your feelings. We never meant to."

Jack absently tapped his staff against the tree branch. "Are you sorry that you hurt me, or sorry that you're in trouble? Because 'sorry' doesn't help."

She looked up at that. "But-"

"But me no buts," he said, quoting his grandmother's favorite phrase. "Look. You screwed up. Good to know you recognize that. But telling me you're sorry? That doesn't exactly fix things! Do you really think I'm going to be thinking happy-skippy thoughts about you guys after this? I said it before, but it really needs repeating. _You took my choice away from me_. And it's not the first time, either."

"I don't see how," Tooth said, looking up at him from under her eyebrows. "When did we do that?"

"You strong-armed me into being a Guardian." Tooth blinked at that. "I said no. You said 'oh but Jack, we protect the children', which, really? No duh, Tooth. Not like you don't mention it at every opportunity."

Jack folded his arms. "North is even further down on my list of people I'm not happy with, or maybe that should be higher up, because lube, but really? The moon says 'Jack Frost is a Guardian' and you're all throwing a party and not listening when I object, or considering that when I was chosen I didn't have _any_ believers. Which is a _death sentence_ to a Guardian."

He watched the light dawn, and then the horrified realization. Tooth gasped, and clapped her hands over her mouth.

"Fortunately for you," he said, "I got believers. And don't tell me Manny planned it that way, that idiot couldn't plan his way out of a paper bag. But you didn't think. And then Bunny comes around asking permission to court me - which, what, when'd that idea spring up in his diseased little mind? - you start hearing wedding bells and thinking all that's left is the vows." He scowled, and quirked his eyebrows at her.

"I," Tooth said. "Well. It's not as though there wasn't any reason _not_ to believe it."

"Huh? Since when?"

"You spend most of your time with him," Tooth said, ticking points off on her fingers. "He actually searches you out for company. I can count on one hand all the times he did that before you became a Guardian, and have five fingers left over. The two of you are always close to each other during the meetings -"

"So we can argue," Jack pointed out.

"It looks like foreplay," she said, rather bluntly. Jack winced.

Did it? Well, maybe from a certain point of view... But then, from a certain point of view, stalking probably looked romantic too.

"Bunny smiles more when you're around -"

"Guardian of Joy," Jack said, now a touch desperate. "That doesn't mean anything."

Tooth looked unimpressed. " _And_ ," she said, "You're always watching him."

"He broke my ribs in '68!" Jack howled. "Of course I'm going to watch him!"

"He what?"

Jack raked a hand back through his hair. "So, I didn't know what day it was. An inch of snow. Maybe two. It would've melted by midday. And next thing I know I've got an angry, giant rabbit yelling at me over his holiday, I respond completely appropriately by trying to get some space, he throws a punch, and pow, broken ribs." He spread his hands. "Dude has issues, I'd like to not get caught by them again, thanks."

“Oh, Aster,” Tooth said, and sighed. She looked at Jack, two parts wry humor, three parts exasperation. “I can’t talk for him. I… Well. I want to, but won’t that lead to the same sort of problem we’re having now? Assuming things?”

“Very astute of you,” Jack snarked.

Tooth winced again. “Yes, well. I… wouldn’t have guessed you were watching him _warily_.”

Jack snorted. “Exactly how did I watch him, then?”

She looked chary. “Like a trained falcon with a shiny new toy for his perch,” she said, and cringed very slightly.

What, did she think he’d attack or something? Or maybe it was the yelling she was worried about. That made sense.

“Like a…” Jack trailed off, and shook his head. “What?”

“It’s been like… you’ve been looking at Bunny as though he’s a puzzle you’re determined to solve. A good puzzle. And you’re having the time of your life while doing so.” She smiled faintly. “I’ve seen falcons act the same way with silver bells hung next to their perches.”

Jack frowned to himself. A falcon? Well, okay, that wasn’t a _bad_ comparison - not the point. “That doesn’t mean I want to hop into bed with him. I mean, sure, we’re friends, I guess, but…”

“I… misinterpreted,” Tooth said. “And so did the others. And… for what it’s worth, Jack, I _am_ sorry. So very sorry. I never meant to hurt you, not ever.”

“But you did,” Jack said, as gently as he could. She still flinched. “Look. It’s in the past. You can’t change it, I can’t change it, what’s done is done. We’ll just… go ahead from here.” And he’d maybe pull a few pranks and tricks until his ire had settled down again.

Though the apology did help. It wasn’t the “I got in trouble, so I’ll say sorry to get out of it fast” kind of apology. It was the “I did something wrong, I feel bad, and I’m admitting and taking responsibility” kind. Much easier to stomach, for one thing.

“Look,” Jack said. “I… I need to talk to Bunny. Have you got a way into the Warren or something?”

“He hasn’t talked to you yet?” Tooth bit her lower lip, and looked away. “I, well, this is really meant to be for emergencies, but…”

“Yeah, this is a personal emergency,” Jack agreed.

Tooth nodded, and reached under the feathers at her hip. “I… hide a belt, under them,” she admitted.

“Really? I never noticed.” They all lay flat against her body, or at least, he’d thought. Not that he’d stared or anything, but Tooth was, after all, there. And Jack was a red-blooded male, and he’d very much liked women back when he’d been alive. Alive the first time. Mortal.

He shoved that particular tangent back into its usual closet, and resolved once more not to stare too long at Tooth’s waist or the gentle swell of her hips. That was hardly polite. And besides, she was only interested in his teeth. At least, if the way she’d fluttered over what’s-her-name, the Valkyrie, meant anything.

Even if Tooth wasn’t in a relationship, she only made those kind of eyes at other women. He’d been taught to never push his attention where it wasn’t wanted, and he wasn’t about to go back on his Da’s lessons.

The man would probably come back as a ghost and tan his hide for the ill manners.

“Right,” Tooth said, and held out a small, wooden coin. “Just press this to the ground, and say you want to go to Bunny’s Warren. It’ll open a direct tunnel for you.”

“Thanks, Tooth.” He took the coin, and looked it over. One side had a bas-relief carving of an aster flower, while the other showed the silhouette of Ayers Rock.

“I’d better go now,” he murmured. “I’ve put this off long enough.”

“Jack?” Tooth put one hand on his shoulder. “If you don’t mind… What are you apologizing for? You had… a lot of good points.”

“Maybe. But I said them wrong. I said them to hurt, not explain. That deserves an apology, if nothing else.” Jack tucked the coin in his pocket. “I don’t actually like hurting people.”

And sometimes, he liked it all too much.

Fortunately, Tooth didn’t know him well enough to catch the lie. She just nodded, smiled faintly, and asked for a hug goodbye. There was no harm in granting her wish, so he savored the feeling of soft feathers against his cheek and a warm body pressed up against his, before pulling away.

He had other things to do. And until he’d done them, he didn’t deserve hugs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is why you are supposed to talk to people, but I suppose Jack can't be blamed for holding a grudge. And Jack is very good with children.
> 
> Also, I'm going for my eye surgery tomorrow morning. It'll be extremely weird to be without glasses, but they tend to give me pressure headaches from where they rest on my nose and ears, no matter what style I wear.


	4. The Humbling River

Jack stepped out of the tunnel, and looked around. The Warren looked… weird. Like a field gone wild, instead of tame parkland. He wasn’t sure he liked the change - wild places had more food plants for people like him, and more shelter, but tame parkland meant more playing children - but it was especially weird because of how vigilant Bunny was about his place. There wasn’t a day that didn’t go by where he wasn’t weeding some part of the vast fields, though to be fair considering the size of the place, each individual patch probably got tended maybe once a month, if that.

Still. Bunny would never let it get this overgrown.

Maybe he was sulking? Jack tapped his staff against his calf, very careful not to let it touch the ground. Although maybe frost-blighted plants would make Bunny show up quickly.

And yell. Jack wasn’t sure he wanted Bunny to yell. Considering how they’d last seen each other, the yelling would not be the fun-argument they’d gotten into the habit of. It’d be nasty and vicious and aimed to hurt. He rubbed his chest, and started walking.

Where could Bunny be? Well, if he was sulking or something… not doing his usual obsessive weeding and tending and stuff… Someplace he could curl up and hide, Jack decided. Did Bunny have a den? People and animals both tended to retreat to somewhere familiar that they felt safe, and if it let them curl up and hide, so much the better. So, where, in all of Bunny’s Warren, would be his most private, safe-feeling area?

Not in the fields, he decided, after a bit. The grass - or whatever - was knee high in places, but if Bunny was anything like real rabbits, he’d want a hole to curl up in. There weren’t any holes in the egg fields, since the eggs could’ve wandered in and gone bad without Bunny noticing. Which meant Jack might as well focus his attention on the few copses of trees and along the cave walls.

Or, he realized an hour of searching later, he could always just take a look in the cottage hidden in the back of the Warren.

It figured he’d never seen the place before. The Warren turned out to be a lot bigger than he’d figured, with ornamental gardens that showcased different flowers, like a botanical garden. There was also a vegetable garden - for food, he assumed though knowing Bunny it could’ve also served double purpose as another botanical garden - and a lot of herb beds. There was even a dim cave for mushrooms, but Jack had backed out almost immediately on finding _that_ place.

The cottage, though, was a bit unexpected. If he’d expected Bunny’s home to be like anything, he probably would’ve imagined a hobbit hole or something, a house under a hill. This… definitely wasn’t that.

He moved closer, all but tiptoeing along the way. It seemed a generous size to him, but then again he’d grown up in a one-room shepherd’s hut. The walls looked to be made out of fieldstone mortared together with a kind of cement, but when he got close enough to touch it… well he didn’t know what that stuff was, but it wasn’t stone and it wasn’t cement. And the windows definately weren’t made out of glass, or even plastic. The only thing that looked normal was the roof, which was thick, graying thatch.

There were flower boxes under the windows, but the plants in them were all dead.

Jack stared at the dead plants for what felt like several hours, but was probably only minutes. Bunny… even sulking, he wouldn’t let a plant die.

Something was wrong.

Jack clutched his staff to his chest, and took a deep breath. Maybe he was sick? Yeah, that made sense. Bunny’d gotten sick, too sick to get out of bed, and that was why everything looked wrong.

He ignored the little fact that, as spirits with a healthy belief base, the Guardians didn’t get sick. They could be poisoned, injured, emotionally compromised, but not _ill_.

Jack moved to the front door, which didn’t have a handle. Instead, there was an odd looking pad. He poked at it with the tip of one finger, and about jumped out of his skin when it lit up. It glowed blue, with lime-green lines bisecting the surface, making a grid.

“Ah…” He pressed his thumb to the pad, because every sci-fi movie with anything even vaguely like this was always a scanner, for thumb or retina.

Whatever it was, it seemed to work. There was a click, and the door swung open.

Jack edged through the now-open door, feeling rather like a wary dog investigating a new place, while at the same time keeping an eye out for monsters. The entryway certainly didn’t look worrying; there were three archways, one in each wall, and two small end tables, one near the door and one in the far corner. The one near the door had a bowl - for keys? Jack frowned to himself. What keys? - and what looked like one of North’s ice sculptures on it. The other one had one of those self-sustaining terrarium things on it, with… huh?

Jack left off his uneasy creeping, and crouched down to look closer at the terrarium. A miniature - very miniature - sabre-toothed cat roared at him, before turning to eye a herd of miniature-jumbo mega-elk.

“The fuck?” he mumbled.

He stood up, and gave the terrarium one last, wary look, before turning to look through the archways.

The one to his left seemed to lead to a coat room, and nothing more, but he ducked in to check. There was a light that turned on the moment he’d crossed the threshold, but it didn’t do anything else. There were a few coats, including one that looked like it’d been left there by North, and a green one that - apart from being a material Jack couldn’t recognize, despite his exposure to the different fabrics and fashions over the centuries - suggested a military uniform. The dressy kind.

There were also a few boxes piled in one corner, but Jack ignored them, beyond a cursory glance. Unless Bunny had shrunk again, there was no way he was hiding in or behind the boxes.

He left the closet, and went to the archway directly across, to the right of the doorway. That just led to a giant library. Or giant in his opinion, anyways. There were plenty of public libraries that were bigger, of course, but this was a private one, and it must have taken up this entire side of the house. The shelves reached up to the ceiling, and there were several rolling ladders so that a guy could get a book off the high shelves without having to go mountain climbing. There were even several low shelves in the middle of the room. There weren’t many windows - bright light damaged books, if he remembered correctly - and plenty of odd looking lights on the tables scattered about.

He took long enough to study one of the lights. It looked like a glowing flower, some kind he didn’t recognize, but it was some kind of metal when he touched it. There was no obvious power source, and it was really heavy when he picked it up to look at the bottom.

The walls were impossible to see, because of all the bookshelves, but the floor was made out of some dark hardwood - which, again, he didn’t recognize - and covered in thick carpets that had been woven to look like grass and moss. The furniture had all been carved to look like it was covered in vines, or made out of twisted roots, or similar stuff. Jack shook his head, and left before his eyes fell out of his head.

The third archway, directly across from the front door, led into a short hallway. It opened onto a great room. There was a kitchen on one side, a fireplace set into the exterior wall halfway down the room, and on the other side was a small sitting area with comfortable-looking couches and chairs. Everything, even the kitchen counters, was once again carved to look like living plant life.

Jack shuddered like he was trying to throw off biting flies. The carving was either very cool or very creepy, he hadn’t decided yet, but it looked like Bunny - or his interior decorator - had done his best to make the inside look like a fantasy version of the outside. Considering _this_ particular outside was the Warren, that was saying something.

Was it so weird he wanted furniture to look like furniture? Why couldn’t the outside just stay outside and the inside stay _inside_?

He started in the living room. The couches were like the ones in the library, only instead of being bare wood, they had seat cushions. The fabric was mottled, and dyed to look like spring leaves. He wondered how the weaver had gotten that effect; it was quite striking, and if it hadn’t been paired with a wood frame that looked like twisted tree roots, Jack would even have liked it.

He was definitely starting to aim at ‘creepy feelings’ from all this… super-nature inspired design.

Like in the library, the floor was an unrecognizable hardwood, with carpets scattered everywhere. Unlike the library, the carpets weren’t woven to look like moss and grass, but like flowers. Lots, and lots, of flowers.

He walked on tiptoes, so as to make as little contact as possible, and wished the wind could come inside. Then he’d be able to fly.

Jack paused just long enough to look over the fireplace, which was reassuringly normal-looking compared to everything else. The mantel was made out of polished red wood, maybe cherry or light mahogany, or some other wood he couldn’t recognize offhand, and the brickwork was the same stuff that made up the outside, that looked like fieldstone. There was a fire screen made out of metal; in fact, when he looked closer, he realized it’d been woven out of fine silver and gold wire, with precious stones for colored beads. The image was of the tree of life, if he wasn’t getting his pictures mixed up.

The kitchen had more of that ‘grown’ look to it. The only surprise was the modern-seeming refrigerator, which, while carved to look like part of a tree trunk (with a handle), opened onto the usual plastic interior. Or, well, it’d have been usual if it was plastic inside. It wasn’t, but he wasn’t sure _what_ it was. Plastic was as good a word as any.

There also didn’t seem to be a power source, but then, the lamps didn’t either. Magic, maybe, or… magic.

The stove was the older kind he’d grown up learning to cook on, which meant fire. It was reassuringly metal, though etched with forest scenery on the sides.

There didn’t seem to be any staircases up or down, at least not at first. Jack tiptoed around the room twice before he noticed the door, almost invisible because of how it’d been set into the wall. He pulled it open, and eyed the spiral staircase. It went both up and down; in his experience, bedrooms were usually on the second floor, to take advantage of rising heat in winter and cool breezes through the windows in summer, so he started up.

His experience was clearly wrong when it came to Bunny’s house. Up only led to an attic, full of boxes, cobwebs, and the first evidence of dust he’d seen since walking through the front door.

Jack sneezed, which stirred up more dust, and set off more sneezing, which only escalated things, and then deliberately let his feet slip out from under him and fell down the stairs to get away from the allergy attack.

He wasn’t able to stop himself at the ground floor - he was sneezing too hard to notice, and was disoriented from tumbling and bouncing against the railings and risers - and ended up in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the stairs. He sneezed twice more, and finally stopped.

Jack stayed where he was, panting lightly as he caught his breath. He’d fallen all the way to the bottom of the stairs - which looked like it was only a single floor below ground, when he looked up to check - and it didn’t look much like he’d expected.

Then again, since when had _anything_ in Bunny’s house looked like he’d expected?

He stood up, and went up the few steps necessary to snag the end of his staff and pull it down. Then he looked around the new hallway, properly this time.

It was paneled in light colored wood - pine? Olive or lime? Birch, maybe - and floored in what looked like flagstone, but wasn’t, the same way the ‘fieldstone’ up on the ground floor wasn’t. There were lights, like the wall candelabra, but made to look like pitcher plants, of all things. The petals glowed as a light source.

Jack frowned. There was only one way to go - forward, since backwards was the stairs and then a blank wall - but there was something… off, now.

Maybe it was the smell.

Upstairs had smelt like books in the library, and the Warren’s fields everywhere else. The attic had smelt like dust, and he felt a sneeze coming on just from the memory.

Down here… it didn’t smell like the fields and it didn’t smell like dust. He sniffed the air a few times, but still wasn’t able to place it. Sweet, kind of. Like… oh, what were those flowers? They always smelt overripe to him, like they were just starting to rot, and the petals were thick and greasy to the touch. He didn’t like them.

Jack realized he was holding his staff, as though ready to attack or defend, and made himself stand more normally. Only one direction to go. He should probably get started.

The back of his neck prickled uncomfortably, and he fought down the urge to check behind him as he walked. This was ridiculous! This was Bunny’s _home_ , there wasn’t anything dangerous here - there weren’t even other people! He was just being stupid and letting too many scary movies watched with his believers influence him!

The lights weren’t helping. Pitcher plants. Didn’t Bunny _know_ about pitcher plants? _Jack_ knew about pitcher plants!

Maybe that was the source of the smell. He paused at the thought, wrinkled his nose, and walked just a little faster. Wasn’t the overgrown cottontail supposed to have a more sensitive sense of smell? Why would he want any part of his house smelling like _this_?

There was a door ahead. Despite himself, Jack found himself dropping into a wary stalk forward, crouched over, on the balls of his feet, staff at the ready. Stupid. Nothing to fight. It was Bunny’s freaking house, the only thing he had to worry about was an angry Australian rabbit yelling at him.

Jack put one hand on the doorknob - and thankfully, the door was _obvious,_ this time - and then yanked it open, staff at the ready.

It was a utility room.

Maybe. Maybe a utility room. Kind of technological, and the last time Jack had paid attention to changing technology, Ford had just come out with the Model T.

He shut the door, and moved on.

There was only one other door, at the end of the hallway. Jack hesitated in front of it, stomach twisting, toes curling. It was the scent, he told himself. Smell was one of the strongest senses linked to memory, wasn’t it? And the pitcher plant scent was making him think of sweet flowers and meat left out in the sun, because pitcher plants used it to entice insects and that was what they wanted. It didn’t _mean_ anything, and he was being a childish weenie.

He’d looked all over. If Bunny wasn’t in this room, he wasn’t in the house. If he wasn’t in this room, Jack could get back outside and look elsewhere. If he wasn’t in this room, Jack could go and breathe fresh air that didn’t make him want to run away and be sick.

He just had to open the door.

Jack made himself put one hand on the doorknob, and pushed it open.

Unlike every other room in the house, the lights in the - the bedroom? - were off.

Maybe Bunny was just one of those people who liked sleeping in complete darkness. Jack was used to sleeping outside in a tree. To each their own, right?

His heart was pounding and he didn’t know why.

Jack hesitated on the threshold. He didn’t want to go into that dark room… because of Pitch! Yes, that was it. That one Easter, forced to play that demented game of hide and seek with the Nightmare King… Of course he didn’t want to go into that shadowy space, when he was already unsettled by the pitcher plants. Now, how did you turn on the lights…?

Apparently, you didn’t. Jack huffed, and glared into the darkness. Fine. He didn’t need those creepy flower-lamps anyways. He could make his own light.

It only took a moment. The tiny marble of ice began to glow with a radiance similar to moonlight, bright enough that once his eyes had adjusted he could make out shapes, though not colors.

The first thing he noticed were the large wardrobes, one to either side of the door. Either one could have hidden a family of six, with room for dozens of winter coats. Next to the wardrobe on the right was a door, and when Jack checked, it let out into what seemed to be a bathroom. He closed the door again.

Here, unlike everywhere else, the floor was carpeted from wall to wall. He couldn’t tell what the pattern was, if anything, and didn’t really care. There was a large, four-poster bed - he’d been expecting a nest - on the other side of the room.

Jack was halfway to the bed when he realized the curtains had been pulled. He paused, heart lurching with an unsteady rhythm. Now wasn’t the time to have a heart attack, he told himself, and moved forward again.

There were two nightstands, one to either side of the bed. There were lamps, or probably lamps, on them, but he couldn’t turn them on.

There wasn’t any other furniture in the room, so he turned to the bed.

Jack used his staff to pull the curtain open on his side of the bed, and gagged at the sudden increase in scent. Stench.

Something was _rotting_.

Jack gagged, and recoiled from the - words failed, even in his own brain. It was _horrible_ ; Jack spent several minutes just wrestling with his gorge, trying not to throw up. Rot. Something in that bed was rotting. Something big, meaty, and - ugh, old.

He shook from the near miss with the puking, and went back to the bed. He parted the curtains again, and the reek was just as bad as the first time, but he controlled his reaction and lifted the light to better see what was making such a mess.

It took him a minute, because he just - he just refused to believe what he was seeing.

And then everything clicked, and he couldn’t _not_ believe.

The thing rotting in the bed…

It was Bunny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at the chapter title, now look at the chapter. Now go look up the song "The Humbling River" on YouTube. Listen to the lyrics. Yeah.
> 
> Also, this chapter is posted in celebration of a successful surgery on the eyes. The medication stings a bit (well, yeah... drops on eyes that just got lasered and all) and leaves a funny metallic aftertaste in my mouth, and my mother's been driving me crazy, and I can't have a shower until tomorrow...
> 
> But I'm not wearing glasses and I can _see my hand at the end of my arm_. Couldn't do that before, without the glasses. (Things are kind of blurry if light is involved, but that'll fade as the cornea heals up. Probably going to be good by the end of next week, if not sooner.)


	5. Mercy in Darkness

Jack screamed, jumped backwards until he hit the wall, and had a heart attack.

He woke up a few minutes later, chest aching like the time he’d gone white water rafting without the raft, and memory of everything that had happened so far. He wished he didn’t, because… Well. Bunny. Rotting. On the bed.

Not exactly something he wanted to remember.

Jack rubbed at his chest with both hands, doing his best to massage the tight muscles so they’d relax and let him breathe again. Lack of air would only lead to a second attack, though usually not a full one.

He didn’t want to breathe deeply, though. The air smelt of… Oh, god, Bunny. Rotting.

He groaned and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. Bunny.

His laboring heart began to calm down. Well, he’d found the worst, hadn’t he? Nothing more to be afraid of. Bunny was… and the source of the scent was… and…

Now what?

Jack lowered his hands, and looked around for his staff and the light. They’d both fallen nearby, so he picked them up. Now what indeed? Go to the other Guardians, tell them what he’d found? That made the most sense, but it didn’t feel right…

There was a faint sound from the bed. Jack almost jumped out of his skin, and then laughed nervously. He’d sat up with the recent dead before, and had been teased and comforted through the long night while the gasses in the body settled.

Wasn’t it?

Curiosity had killed the cat, Jack reminded himself. Despite that, he crawled forwards towards the bed, peeking up over the edge.

Nothing. Just… just Bunny, lying on top of the sheets like he’d curled up for a nap and then… stopped. He was missing most of his fur; it seemed to have fallen out while he’d… slept. Or whatever. There were glistening patches on his skin; open sores, maybe? He couldn’t tell in this light, and to be honest, wasn’t sure he wanted to. In… sleep… he looked anything but peaceful, though that was probably just the way everything had… settled.

Jack started to look away, and then looked back. There’d been a movement?

Couldn’t have been. De- decomposing bodies made noises sometimes when the gas built up and was then released, they could even look like the hair and fingernails were growing when the skin pulled away from the roots, but they didn’t _move_.

Unless _insects_ had already gotten to Bunny.

“Eyuck,” Jack whispered, even as he looked closer. Better to know.

Bunny’s eyelids fluttered again, and he heard another noise. It sounded like a quiet, final wheeze.

Like Grandma, that last day…

Jack… couldn’t go cold. Not anymore. But he could go _stiff_ , and he did.

Bunny wasn’t dead.

He was just very, _very_ close.

* * *

Jack… made himself sit down and focus. Now wasn’t the time to go running around in all different directions at once. His heart threatened another attack, but he took several deep breaths - no matter the stench - and forced the attack down. He’d already wasted enough time exploring Bunny’s home and unconscious from the last attack and -

No. That wasn’t going to help. He had to stop, and concentrate. First things first, he needed more light to see by.

It was just as easy to make more of his little ice balls, even bigger ones, as it was to tie the curtains back so he could see. He stuck the ice balls to the curtain fabric, and created one large ice ball that, with a bit of effort, attached to the curtain rod.

He still couldn’t see color, but things were almost as bright as the midnight sun in Shetland. You could read by that light, even past midnight.

Jack started cataloging Bunny’s symptoms. Lack of fur. The shiny patches on his skin _were_ open sores. There were mottled bruises everywhere else, probably from lying in bed like this a long, long time before finally losing consciousness. His eyes were partly open, though he couldn’t check Bunny’s pupils or their dilation; they were covered in a thick layer of partly-crusty pus. Bunny had lost weight until Jack could not only count the rabbit’s ribs, but could probably fit two fingers in the furrow between each one. He was a bundle of sticks now, stomach concave to the point Jack half-expected to see the bumps of his spine from the front, hip bones jutting up like coat racks, the lines and dips of his skull completely visible.

If not for the steady, once-a-minute wheeze and the occasional flutter of his eyelids, Bunny looked dead.

He needed better light if he was going to see more, maybe come up with a plan of attack against whatever this illness was, but that wasn’t happening here. He needed to move Bunny, somehow. Jack grimaced. He was no weakling, but normally carrying Bunny would be… difficult.

This wasn’t normal. The only problem would be in not knocking Bunny’s head and feet into the walls, right?

Jack touched the tips of his fingers to Bunny’s arm, and began to slide his hand down along the back of his shoulder.

Bunny’s skin sloughed off at the light touch, sliding away to reveal glistening strings of wet muscle.

This time he couldn’t hold back the vomit. He barely managed to turn so as not to puke on Bunny.

Jack puked until there wasn’t anything left, and then he puked some more, until all he could do was gag and spit and dry heave and cry. He could feel the - the way Bunny’s skin had stuck to his fingers, just that little bit, and the way there hadn’t been any resistance and then it’d slid away and he’d seen - seen -

More dry heaves. Jack’s stomach tried to turn inside out, until it felt like he’d torn something in his side.

Finally, not even horror could make him puke any more. He sat back on his heels, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. Okay. No picking Bunny up. What other options were there?

There didn’t seem to be any. If he picked Bunny up, the rabbit would end up... skinned... in no time at all. If he didn't, if he tried nursing Bunny back to health here... Jack didn't know why, but he _knew_ , the way he knew his own name, that Bunny wouldn't last the hour.

"How'd you get so sick?" Jack whispered, voice hoarse and nearly soundless. Bunny didn't respond, not that he'd expected it.

How was this even possible? Kids' belief in the Easter Bunny was at an all time high, even several months after Easter. And Bunny, he was a spirit of spring, new life and renewal and all that. He shouldn't be dying. It shouldn't have been possible for him to get sniffles!

Jack ran his fingers over the coverlet, and then frowned at the ice following the touch. And then blinked. He looked down at his hand, then back up at the coverlet, and then at the doorway.

That could work...

* * *

Jack rubbed at his chest, and looked around the small clearing. This was much better for Bunny, he decided. Wrestling the comatose rabbit out of bed and up the stairs hadn't been too difficult, at least not after he'd frozen the coverlet into something like a backboard, the sort of thing paramedics used these days. He'd tied the corners of the coverlet up near Bunny's head into a loop, slid the crook of his staff through that, and then tied the corners down near Bunny's feet into another loop, which went over the butt of his staff and got frozen in place. Bunny didn't weigh much anymore, so it worked.

Now the rabbit was lying in the middle of an entirely ornamental garden, with graceful trees - some kind of fruit, maybe? - and flowering bushes, and flowering grasses, and all the light and fresh air a body could want.

If only Jack knew what to do next. He'd gotten Bunny out of that dank, airless, dead bedroom and into the garden. But... he couldn't even _touch_ Bunny without hurting him. How was he supposed to feed Bunny, or wash his face or those sores? And what was he supposed to use for medicine?

Jack was about ready to tear his hair out, and his heart was threatening another attack. Stupid thing, and stupid Manny, too, bringing him back improperly! If the Moon had done his job right, Jack's heart wouldn't have been constantly giving out on him, he would've had his memories from the first, and the other spirits probably wouldn't have made such a big show of shunning him.

Thinking about the other spirits did give him one idea, though. He'd overheard a few... oh, he couldn't remember now, selkies or dryads or frost salamanders, something, talking to each other. Gossiping, really, and telling stories. There'd been something, hadn't there? About a white stag that had found a dying firebird, and shared three drops of blood to bring her back to life?

There'd been something else about that story, but the spirits had noticed him listening in and run him off, grumbling. Jack was still a bit miffed about that, actually. It wasn't like he'd been _doing_ anything, just listening.

But... three drops of blood... He looked down at his hand, and then over at Bunny.

He formed two ice splinters, and stabbed his finger with one. Blood immediately welled up, just the way he wanted it to. He took the second splinter, and poked very carefully at Bunny's shoulder, where there weren't any sores or, eh, lost skin. He barely touched Bunny's skin with the point of the splinter, and blood started to drip down Bunny's skin.

That wasn't a good sign. Jack frowned, and very carefully pressed his bleeding finger to Bunny's wound.

* * *

If he felt something click inside him, like a key in a lock, he would forever deny it for the rest of his days.

* * *

Jack pulled away, and looked down at his finger.

No blood. And Bunny's shoulder had stopped bleeding.

He made himself breathe slowly, instead of gasping desperately the way he kind of wanted to. Something had happened.

Well, of _course_ something had happened! Three drops of blood, just like in the story! Jack closed his eyes, and sat down. Very carefully. Even sitting, he felt ready to tip over sideways.

His energy must have been going to Bunny, because it sure wasn't going to a storm. He would've known. As it wasn't going to a storm, and Bunny was already breathing better, it was fairly obvious what was happening.

Jack nodded, and rubbed his hands up and down his arms. "Washcloths," he said, finally. "And water. I'll be right back." He frowned, and then left his staff with Bunny. "Don't go anywhere."

Bunny didn't answer. Obviously.

Jack headed back to the cottage, which was even creepier now that he knew where Bunny was. He managed to find a stack of washcloths in one of the kitchen cupboards, and a large bowl in another one. Instead of lingering, he hurried out, the back of his neck crawling like there was a bunch of spiders walking on him.

Just to make sure - this was Australia, after all - Jack stopped outside, put down his burden, and frantically brushed the back of his neck. Nope, no spiders.

Getting water was pretty easy; he just found the clear spring that provided the grove its life. Or water sources; he'd followed his ears to the twinkly sound of an artificial fountain. Or in this case, a perfectly natural-looking fountain that acted man-made, complete with dozens of basins where a trickle of water could fall into, then out into another, lower basin, and so on down to the pool at the bottom.

"I think Bunny has too much time on his hands." Jack filled the bowl from the pool. It pretty much emptied the pool.

He got it back to Bunny's side, and dipped the first washcloth. Once it was suitably soaked, he began dabbing at Bunny's skin, paying special attention to the sores and the spots where skin had... slid off.

Surprisingly - or not, considering the drain on his own energy - the light touches didn't injure Bunny any further. They probably didn't _help_ much, but at least no more skin went sliding off. And since it wasn't making things worse, Jack started washing other parts of Bunny. Like his ears, which were crusted down at the bottom with what he really hoped was dried wax. And then down Bunny's face, to clean the pus from his eyes; his neck, shoulders, and arms, to his chest and stomach.

At that point, Jack paused. Not just because of a certain region of the body that didn't have any fur covering it, but because he'd run out of washcloths and water.

"Now you've got me doing laundry," he complained. He glanced down at Bunny's groin, and shrugged. Maybe the cottontail was a neuter, because he certainly didn't show much more than, say, a Barbie doll would.

He gathered up the used cloths, and empty bowl, and scowled. Back to the creepy house he had to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, Jack has heart problems from having died and being brought back. Nope, Bunny's not yet dead. Yup, I could explain things, but nope, not gonna.


	6. Once Upon a Dream

Aster didn't know exactly where he was. Near as he could tell, it was a windswept plain, covered in snow heaped higher than his head, with more of the stuff whipping through the air like knives. It was storming. He knew it was storming; he could hear the wind raging, and up in the clouds was a constant, green flicker of blizzard-lightning. The thunder was continuous, one long roar of defiance against... the world, he had to assume.

Yet, where _he_ stood, the wind did not bludgeon, it caressed. He heard the thunder, but it didn't hurt his ears. He was the tallest thing around, but the lightning never came close to him, though he saw it pound the snowfields to either side. The snow was soft and kissed his fur, and though it must have been freezing, he didn't feel the cold.

Was he dead? He was fairly certain he should be dead.

But this didn't match anything he'd been told about the afterlife. Not the cold, dark caves where the bad went to serve their punishments until they repented. Not the gentle fields where those who wanted to, waited for rebirth as a new person. And most certainly not the promised paradise for the good, where they'd enjoy their favorite things, their favorite people, without worry or care...

Aster shivered, and looked around. He'd been alone, but now he wasn't.

There were thirteen of them, a full baker's dozen. Each one was half again as big as he was, heavily muscled and with thick fur. Some of them were white with black stripes, while others were silvery with gray spots. Apart from that, they were identical, from their twitching black noses to the tips of their tails.

The snow cats had him circled.

Now they watched, and waited.

No point in trying to run, or hide, or fight. He _must_ have been dead.

Above, the storm continued to rage.

* * *

Jack was not worried.

He wasn't.

Mostly not, anyways.

Not that there was anything to worry about, Bunny was doing _fine_.

The open sores were closing up, and there was new skin over the - spots where skin had slid off. Jack was managing to get Bunny to drink a bit of broth every few hours, which meant he'd even gained a little weight. Not much, because _broth_ , but even a few ounces had a noticeable effect. He no longer looked quite like a skeleton with skin stretched over it.

So no, not worried. Why should he worry? Sure, Bunny hadn't woken up yet, and sure he hadn't grown any fur back so he still looked like an overgrown naked mole rat, and okay maybe Jack was getting a little freaked out by how overgrown and quiet everything was...

...but he wasn't worried.

Concerned for his friend, yes. Worried, no.

Big difference. Which he finished expounding on, and stared at the sleeping rabbit. Who'd ignored his entire speech, the jerk.

"Not that I should be surprised. You're a jerk wrapped in a... a jerk, with a heart of a jerk," Jack muttered. He rolled Bunny, very carefully, onto his other side, to prevent any more bed sores. "Just one big massive jerk. Especially sleeping all day and making me do all the work."

He arranged the pillows so they supported Bunny in his new position, and stroked the long ears. Maybe a little fuzzy. So maybe that meant Bunny was re-growing his fur.

Jack moved over to the little cooking area he'd set up, mostly because Bunny's home was, in his opinion, creepier than Pitch's lair. Not that he needed anything fancy. Broth wasn't complicated. A small campfire, which he was very careful about - he'd gotten singed three times by vicious sparks, and managed to ice the wood over seven times already - and a pot to boil water in. Bouillon cubes he'd found in Bunny's pantry were kept in their bucket over to one side. A larger pot, almost a cauldron, served for the daily laundry.

He kept himself fed with bowls of broth and whatever was ripe in the vegetable gardens. Currently tomatoes. Jack was maybe not-fasting on bowls of broth while waiting for something _else_ to come into season.

Tomatoes were almost as creepy as Bunny's house.

He'd lost track of time. Well, it wasn't like he could tell the difference between one day and the next. Sometimes he slept. Sometimes he stayed awake through the artificial night. Sometimes he was pretty sure he slept when he'd meant to stay awake. When he was awake, well, taking care of Bunny was a full-time job.

It didn't help that he wasn't sure if he was doing all the right things. Medical care of spirits wasn't exactly something he'd studied. Not that he'd paid much attention to medical care of mortals, either, but he was reasonably certain he could have figured something out if Bunny were mortal.

Okay, so 'figuring something out' probably would've taken form as 'find the nearest hospital and drop him off there'. So what? If there were experts available, why not make use of them?

Jack... wasn't going to think about why he hadn't gone to anyone else, even the other Guardians. Even not-thinking about it made him start to get angry.

It'd been _three months_ and no one had thought to look in on Bunny, see he was sick? Really? He was one of their old friends and everything and... _really_? If Jack had been even a day later, the Easter Bunny would've kicked the bucket, and that... no.

Just no. Jack wasn't even angry at Bunny anymore. Nothing like a life threatening illness to put one's overreaction into perspective, Jack thought. Or maybe he said it; he might've fallen back into the habit of just saying every thought that crossed his mind. He barely noticed, anymore.

Either way. Bunny had said or done something that made the other Guardians go loopy, and Jack's flipping out had clearly made it impossible for the Cottontail to gather his thoughts in the time Jack had given him. Then he'd gotten sick, though hopefully not because of the snow Jack had shoved into North's Workshop. Sick-Bunny hadn't been able to track Jack down and explain-slash-apologize. And thus had things gone.

So it wasn't Bunny's fault. Sure, the trigger was his fault, but he hadn't asked North and Tooth and Sandy to go crazy. And he hadn't asked for Jack to hold a grudge for three months. That was entirely on everyone else's heads, and Jack was certainly including himself in that.

"It'd just be easier if you'd wake up," he muttered, and prepared one of the washcloths. He didn't _bathe_ Bunny all too often, as that'd just dry out the skin and lead to more sores, which was kind of what he was trying to _avoid_ , but he'd found some aromatic oils and salves and stuff in Bunny's home. His last trip into the home, actually, because creepy place was creepy and he was pretty sure there were spiders moving in.

Big ones.

If any spiders came crawling at him out here, Jack had his staff ready and would use it without hesitation.

At any rate, the oils and salves and stuff were exactly what the doctor probably would've called for, because it definitely made sure Bunny's skin didn't dry out. It also made Jack's hands get all soft, which was quite a surprise. He had three hundred years of heavy calluses on his hands to deal with. Heck, at this rate, his fingernails might stop being quite so nasty to look at!

He wasn't going to use it on his feet, though. The soles of his feet were like leather at this point, though somewhat cleaner and better looking than his hands. He still wasn't sure why that was...

Jack shook his head. Today was an oil day, instead of the nice-smelling body cream. Jack gave the washcloth a new dose of oil, and began applying the oil to Bunny. Very carefully, since his skin still bruised at light touches.

At least it didn't slide off anymore.

He shuddered, and ran the washcloth over Bunny's ears, and then over his forehead. He used one corner to very carefully wipe over Bunny's closed eyes, and then over his muzzle and cheeks. One oiled cloth did very well for Bunny's entire body, even if Jack did feel a bit awkward the lower down Bunny's body he got. It just, well, in his experience guys didn't clean other guys' private parts, even if they apparently didn't _have_ said parts.

Awkward as he'd felt, though, he'd still _looked_. It wasn't his fault he was curious as ten cats. Besides, it was kind of weird. He'd expected something like wild rabbits had, which was to say, a noticeable sheath and maybe balls, not a bump.

A _small_ bump.

"Maybe you're a neuter," Jack muttered, as he swiped the cloth over the concave of Bunny's stomach and up over his pelvis. "Though it'd make the whole 'I wanna be paired with you' thing kind of weird, unless we're talking asexual or something which, you know, isn't weird? Maybe not weird? Because I have a sex drive, I think. I'd have noticed if I didn't."

Maybe. Or maybe he had it wrong? But he had been attracted to some of the village girls - okay, not Nan, who'd been stunning, the kind of young lady who'd have been signed up as a model the instant she turned fourteen. He'd been terrified of Nan, actually, because of that - but still. Girls. Attracted to. Was him.

Not giant, presumably male, rabbits.

Jack sighed, and shuffled so as to continue his ministrations down Bunny's legs. He had really knobby knees. Because of the starvation, most likely, but still.

Actually, the weird angles and proportions of Bunny's legs were much more interesting than what _wasn't_ hanging between the rabbit's legs. Jack might've indulged himself in touching Bunny's toes a bit more than usual, wiggling them between his fingers and pressing his thumbs to the soft pads of Bunny's feet.

It was probably why he was surprised by the soft, breathy moan.

Jack froze, and hunched his shoulders. Looking as guilty as it was possible, he dared a quick glance up at Bunny's face.

Nope, still asleep.

He caressed Bunny's foot again. Another soft moan, and this time the rabbit shifted very slightly. Jack looked down at Bunny's hips, which seemed to be what he was trying to move the most, and blinked.

Okay, he decided. Not a neuter after all.

The bump wasn't exactly a bump anymore; it looked more like two folds of skin that were shifting as something else started to poke up through the slit. So far, no more of Bunny's penis had escaped his body than, say, the length of the first joint of Jack's thumb, but it was still more of Bunny's bits than Jack had really wanted to see.

He groaned and clapped one somewhat oily hand over his eyes.

"Why?" he asked the darkness behind his eyes. "Why oh why oh why oh _why_?"

The darkness had no answer. He hadn't really expected it to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, another chapter, and we get a little more information with nothing much happening. Except character development. And oh look, Jack discovered Bunny's not a neuter. Yay?


	7. Wake Up

Jack was almost asleep when he heard the change in Bunny's breathing. He was awake almost at once, heart pounding and adrenaline ensuring he'd be jittery until he crashed. Even as he jackknifed into a sitting position, eyes bugging out against the near-complete darkness, he knew that the change wasn't a _bad_ one.

Bunny's breathing was speeding up.

Jack scrambled over to the small fire, which had died down to banked embers, and added a log. It caught, and the firelight increased until he could see Bunny better. The rabbit was twitching, moving incrementally towards actually being _awake_. It'd been... what, a month? Maybe two, now. Jack didn't know.

This was the first time Bunny showed signs of actual life. As compared to a breathing vegetable.

"Cottontail?" he whispered, and held out one hand. He almost touched Bunny's shoulder, and then froze, remembering that first touch and the feeling of skin sliding free.

No. Ridiculous. Bunny was healthier than that now. Jack could touch him; _had_ touched him plenty. Bunny looked like he'd break if Jack breathed wrong, but he wasn't that fragile.

He made himself touch Bunny's shoulder, and relaxed when the rabbit didn't immediately shatter into pieces.

"Bunny?"

Bunny took a slightly deeper breath, and Jack saw the rabbit's eyelids flutter. He watched, entranced, as Bunny slowly opened his eyes for the first time in who knew how long. Not very much; he was facing the fire, and even though Jack thought the light was dim it was probably horribly bright to the rabbit. And he probably just didn't have the energy to open his eyes much further than he'd already done.

"Bunny?" Jack said, again.

In the firelight, Bunny's eyes had turned black instead of green. It was a bit eerie, being stared at from those dark depths. Impossible to read, entirely.

"Hey," Jack said, and smoothed a hand over Bunny's forehead. "I'm here. I'm going to take care of you. You'll be okay."

Bunny blinked, and seemed to blink a second time but he didn't open his eyes again. He must have been too tired. Instead, he fell back asleep, until it was like he'd never been awake at all.

* * *

He drifted from hallucination to hallucination, and further away from reality.

They never changed. One set was all about the storm whirling around him and the cats that watched him. Aster could get a feel for the storm now; it didn't sound angry, it _was_ angry. It was a killer, thwarted rage and a hate for all things living that made him shiver when he thought about it. It made him want to shrink down and burrow beneath the snow, hide away and never come out. He never dared, not with the cats watching him, but he _wanted_ to.

The other set was different, painful in a way. In the hallucination Jack was there, tending for him. Aster had the sense, almost like a memory, that he was very ill and Jack was taking care of him. This hallucination - or string of them - were more disconnected than the ones about the storm. Sometimes Jack fed him bowls of soup. Other times he would 'wake up' and Jack would be talking to him, a disjointed ramble he listened to for the sound of Jack's voice, not the words. And still other times he'd wake up with his head pillowed on Jack's lap, the boy silent and stroking Aster's forehead.

He much preferred those hallucinations to the storm, if only because, well... Jack.

But no. Jack hated him. Aster had destroyed all chances of Jack ever smiling at him again. Probably why he was dreaming about it now. Surely he was close to death. Lingering at the doorway.

No point in it. In all of Pookan history, no one had ever been saved from a broken heart.

Aster wouldn't be the first.

* * *

"Phil?" Jack poked his head into the head yeti's office. "Mind if I talk to you?"

Jack had finally given in to the stir-crazy urges, and gotten help in watching Bunny. More specifically, he'd sent a message to Phil with one of Bunny's eggs, asking to borrow one of Phil's underlings. The yeti had sent two, who had come armed with medical journals, herbals, and bug spray. Jack had lectured and threatened them for a half-hour each, it seemed, before taking off to the North Pole.

While it was good - great - to fly over the tundra and set the clouds to snowing, Jack realized he wasn't feeling quite so carefree as he'd thought. Bunny was back in the Warren, after all, sick, and who knew how those two Yeti would handle caring for him?

But he didn't turn back. It'd apparently been three months now, which meant certain considerations need to be made.

Thus the visit to Phil.

The yeti scowled at Jack, and then gestured at the visitor's chair. _"Shut the door,"_ he grumbled, turning back to his paperwork.

Phil's office was... well, Jack wasn't the only one who thought the yeti deserved more room, but all attempts at moving him out of the former broom closet came to naught. Mind, it was a _big_ broom closet, but that only meant there was room for a desk, a large filing cabinet, and a visitor's chair. The dead plant was no longer on top of the filing cabinet, so someone must have succeeded in removing it.

Jack sat down, and waited. The chair was uncomfortable, and Phil's unrelenting hostility even more so, but he was used to both. Phil didn't like anyone, no matter how many happy flakes Jack tossed at him. He'd been the one to take the most glee in tossing Jack out in the snow, but he'd taken as much enjoyment in yelling at the kitchen staff for not cleaning up after preparing dinner and letting the elves get into a sugar coma.

 _"What?"_ Phil grumbled, signing off on the papers in front of him. _"I assume this has something to do with your stealing my workers?"_

"Actually, yeah." Jack leaned his staff up into the one clear corner, and shifted so he was half-crouched on the chair. "Phil, Bunny's sick."

The cantankerous yeti paused, and squinted over at Jack. _"Sick? He's a Guardian. They don't get sick."_

"Well, he did." Jack picked at a toenail. "I think he... I think if I'd visited a day later he'd have died."

Phil pulled a new stack of papers in front of him, but he went over them with less than his usual amount of focus. _"I suppose,"_ he grumbled, after several minutes, _"You'll want someone to watch him while you oversee your duties."_

"Huh?" His duties? It actually took Jack a minute to remember, and then he winced. "Oh, right." He paused, and added, "what month is it?"

Phil smirked at him, and tossed a calendar at his head. Fortunately it was the kind where the months got ripped away, so he didn't have to flip through to find out when it was.

Late June, he realized. Plenty of time before he had to worry about the Northern Hemisphere. "I don't deal with the south," he said. "The one time I tried going there for the summer, I got yelled at."

Phil grumbled something uncomplimentary under his breath; it could have just as easily been at Jack as at the people who'd yelled at him, so Jack didn't bother listening in. Besides, he'd heard all of Phil's complaints by now, and other than the names, they didn't really change.

"I guess, if Bunny's still sick in the winter," Jack said, "I'll need help. But..."

Phil flapped a hand at him.

"I don't know what I'm doing!"

The yeti grunted, and looked up at him. _"Surely he can tell you -"_

"That's the thing, Phil, he _can't_. He's..." Jack looked down, and pulled his sweater hood up. "He's been waking up a few times, recently. For a few minutes. But he hasn't put on weight so he still... looks like a skeleton..."

Phil tapped his pen against the desk. _"Stay here,"_ he finally said, and left his office.

Jack huddled on the chair, toes curling around the edge. "Sure," he mumbled. Where else did he have to go? It wasn't like... Well, he supposed he could have asked Baby Tooth for help, but she was always so busy, and whether she'd meant to or not she would've told Tooth eventually. Phil wouldn't tell North, and if Phil said not to, none of the other yeti would either.

Now that he was here, Jack supposed it was safe to let his emotions free... a little. Phil had never cared if Jack iced things over a little bit; yeti were used to even colder temperatures than Jack usually produced, so it all worked out.

Very carefully, Jack poked at his emotions.

Why didn't he want to tell the other Guardians? Surely they would know better how to help?

... Because this was their fault.

Jack clenched his teeth, and managed to keep the ice to a thick layer of rime on the chair and the floor around it.

He wasn't sure how, exactly, but this whole situation _was_ their fault. Everything had been going along just _fine_ before they'd gone and poked their noses into things that _didn't concern them_. Jack had been happy, really happy, for the first time in what must have been _decades_. If not longer. There were children that believed in him, and the Guardians always made time to talk to him - well, except right near Christmas, when North was busy, Sandy was busy, Tooth was busy, and Bunny had been grouchier than normal - but Jack had been busy too. He and Bunny had started getting along. He'd been thinking that the other Guardians might actually be his _friends_.

And then it'd all come crashing down around his ears, the way he should've figured.

Because - because it hadn't just been them assuming he'd hop into bed with Bunny. It'd been all the little things. Comments he couldn't quite recall, except that they'd made his blood freeze and his lips tighten. Nothing... overt. Things like where he lived and what he got up to and his record for the Naughty list and just... _stuff_.

And then Bunny'd said or done something, and North had latched on, and they'd just assumed he'd go along with it.

The way they'd assumed he'd go along with being a Guardian. Like he'd _wanted_ to be one.

If Jack let himself think about the whole... _thing_ , the first attempt at initiating him, he'd probably hurt someone.

So Jack had blown up. Who wouldn't? He'd felt them shoving him down a path he didn't want, and this time it wasn't even for such stupid reasons like 'the moon told us to' or 'great danger, get Jack!' Oh no, it'd been because they'd figured it was what was best, and so away they'd gone.

And he'd yelled at Bunny, who according to Mother Nature deserved it the least.

And now Bunny was sick.

Jack wasn't sure exactly how all those parts fit together, but... he knew they did.

And he knew that it was North, and Tooth, and even Sandy who were to blame.

Jack had some of the blame, too. It was important that he keep his temper. He knew it; he'd seen it time and again over the decades that he fucked things up when he got angry and showed it. It was better to smile and laugh and keep everything wrapped up inside, because at least that way no one _died_.

Just because the only people who'd died from Jack's messing up, so far, had deserved it... didn't mean it was the right thing to do.

He sighed, and waved the plume of foggy air away from his face. Phil chose that moment to enter the room, and scowled at the ice coating the floor.

" _Here,_ " he said, and shoved a small book at Jack. Even by modern standards, where the paperbacks were often small enough to fit in a pocket, this one was _tiny_. It was no taller than Jack's palm, and no more than fifty pages, if that. The writing was barely legible, handwritten and cramped, as the author had saved space by not using spaces. Or, it seemed, punctuation.

"What is this?" Jack asked. He flipped through the pages, carefully. They were so old they rustled when he turned them, and they felt as thin as onionskin. "A book in code?"

" _Latin, and it's six centuries_ ," Phil grumbled. " _Twice your age_."

Ah, that explained the lack of spaces. That hadn't come into vogue until the printing press. Even rich men had thought paper - or properly made vellum - expensive. There just hadn't been the material to waste with a little thing called standardized spacing, and everything'd been written small enough to strain the eyes for the same reason.

"Okay. It's a good thing I read Latin." He squinted at the first page. "Maybe."

" _Bunny wrote that_."

Jack looked up, and held the book closer to his chest. He pretended not to notice Phil's smile, faint though it was, the same way Phil pretended he wasn't smiling. "He did?"

" _Mm. Medical. Just in case, he said. You might find it useful_."

Jack looked back down at the book. "Yeah," he said, and carefully tucked it into his pocket. "I think it might."

He'd have to study it later, then.

You know. In strong light.

* * *

Aster opened his eyes, almost relieved at the new hallucination. The other one, with the storm, had unnerved him more than he really wanted to think about. Not that it mattered, except that it seemed to be taking him such a long time to die.

Even in this hallucination, he had a sense of the other one, the great storm that seemed to have lowered itself towards the ground, with fewer lightning strikes but more growling thunder. The cats had approached, their heads down and eyes glowing, to settle on the snow only several feet away instead of several dozen.

Aster turned his attention to the new hallucination, and looked for Jack. He wanted to delude himself, that Jack was helping him out of care and kindness, when the reality was that the frost spirit wouldn't spit on him if Aster were on fire.

He blinked up at the branches overhead, and wondered why he was imagining his Warren as overgrown and neglected. Because his imagination also had him feeling vaguely ill and weak as a kitten? As reasonable an explanation as any, considering he was delusional. For all he knew, in a minute or two a pink elephant would walk by and tell him he was behind on the gardening because the turtle said he had to be.

There was something almost comforting about that. Things happened because they did. Not for any reason beyond his own mind throwing random bits and bobs against the proverbial wall and seeing what stuck.

He sighed, and continued to look around. Jack... wasn't about. That was odd. He frowned, and almost retreated to the other hallucination of the storm. It wasn't a restful one, but at least it was predictable.

A branch snapped off behind him; he was on his side, he realized. Probably just Jack; wasn't that what had been going on in his imagination all this time? Though, even in his strangest dreams, Jack had never been so heavy-footed as to make noise when walking.

He tried to shift, the better to look over his shoulder, and couldn't.

... He should have. It _was_ his dream, after all.

The footsteps paused, and then hurried towards him. They were unfamiliar; not Jack's, not North's, not Tooth's or Sandy's, and Aster couldn't _move_. His heart raced, and he shook with each rapid beat. Had his dream turned into a nightmare?

Crikey. He was dying.

So this was it. What happened now? End of the road - the bone rabbit, if the stories of his childhood were right, or the Grim Reaper if it was the humans' stories that'd influence what he saw. He braced himself, sure that whatever it was that'd take him away that he was ready for the end.

... The end apparently involved a very ugly yeti glaring down at him.

Aster stared up at the yeti.

The yeti glared down at him.

The yeti was joined by a second one, just as ugly and just as cranky-looking.

Aster blinked, and tried to move again. This wasn't right. This wasn't _right_. If he wasn't facing the end, then Jack should have been there. Not these two gobdaws.

One of the yeti reached down and caught him by the shoulder, and Aster tried to claw at the oversized paw - and couldn't.

His arms twitched, but didn't move beyond that. He looked down, and for the first time actually _saw_ himself.

He was a skeleton, wasted away to nothing. He couldn't move because there was nothing left, no muscles, no tendons, just skin and bones. His fur had fallen away and someone - Jack? - had draped a light blanket over him, but it must have fallen away somehow - certainly nothing _he'd_ done - because he could see his arms, his ribcage, and a hint of the hollow where his stomach had used to be.

He breathed in, and watched his entire chest heave and jerk. He breathed out, and realized he was about to panic.

"No," he said, or tried to. He managed a breathy hiss, barely louder than his exhale had been.

The yeti was still touching him.

He was alive. This wasn't a hallucination.

The yeti - and where was Jack? Jack was supposed to be here, he'd always been here, it hadn't been a hallucination and he _wasn't here_! - caught hold of his other shoulder, and growled something at him.

Aster was barely conversant in Yetish on a good day. He hissed back, and tried to shrug the yeti's paws off him. He couldn't even twitch an ear.

Helpless. Strewth, he was helpless as a newborn kit. More.

"Jack!" he called, managing a somewhat forceful grunt in place of the word. He couldn't get away from the yeti. His arms were hurting from that grip; felt like the bones were about to crumble away. And it stank. He hadn't ever realized exactly how much the wretched things reeked, of mildew in the fur and a heavy musk like the arctic oxen, damp carpet and bad breath.

He had to get away. Had to. Had to get free, get away, find Jack because this wasn't _right_. It was wrong, so wrong he could feel the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, and it didn't help because what little strength he had left was fading fast and the yeti were still there, holding him down and yelling at each other and him in that cursed tongue of theirs.

Aster gasped for breath, as exhausted from barely twitching as if he'd gone on a three day drink-and-brawl. And Jack still wasn't there.

He'd always been there, in the times Aster had thought were hallucinations but weren't. Had been real.

Now he wasn't.

Had something happened to him? Had he left?

Aster wasn't sure which thought was more alarming.

"G-geh..." He glared up at the yeti, thwarted rage and tears distorting his vision. It made them look uglier, somehow.

The yeti holding him sneered, revealing yellowed teeth, grumbling loudly.

All of a sudden there was a gust of cold wind that rattled the branches, tore loose leaves and threw them about, and made the yeti yelp and shiver with sudden cold.

Strangely Aster - who should have felt the cold the most, without his fur as he was - felt it the least. The tips of his ears grew chill, and his nose, but that was it.

"Honey, I'm ho-ooh-what the _hell_ are you two doing?"

The yeti holding Aster dropped him and backed away, paws up. The second yeti did the same, his eyes wide and wild.

Jack - Jack! - dropped down into view, looking pissed. "I asked you guys to watch him," Jack snapped. "Just in case. Not fuck things up. You will wait _just_ long enough for me to write Phil a note."

For some reason, that made the two yeti cringe.

Aster watched, calming down now that Jack was back in view, as Jack pulled a small, leather bound journal out of his sweater pocket, along with several crumpled pieces of paper. He used a bit of charcoal from the fire and wrote quickly, if messily.

"Here," he said, and handed the paper to the closest yeti. "And don't think I won't check with Phil that you gave it to him. And _you_ tell _him_ , if he doesn't send someone sensible next time, I'll ask for elves to help me out!"

The yeti looked sullen, but nodded like chastised schoolboys. Aster was still wondering by what Jack had said - next time? What next time? - when one of them pulled a snow globe out of a belt pouch, and opened a portal to North's Workshop.

"Sub-par idiots," Jack muttered. Then his shoulders relaxed, and he dropped down until he wasn't balanced on the balls of his feet. He turned to Aster, and smiled.

"Hey, Cottontail. Awake, are you?"

Aster swallowed, and somehow found the strength to nod. Jack's entire face lit up, like the sun coming out after a long day or some other poetical comparison. Aster had never been good enough with words, even in his own head.

Jack moved over to crouch next to him, and stroked one bare cheek. Aster hummed in appreciation. "Alright," Jack said. "You're alright now. It's okay, Bunny. You've been sick, but I'm going to take care of you. You just concentrate on getting better."

He paused, and added, "Don't fall asleep yet. You need to eat the soup."

Aster opened his eyes - he couldn't sleep if they were open, surely - and watched Jack.

There was just one problem with all of this. He wasn't sick; he was dying of a broken heart.

So why wasn't he dead yet? And why, in the name of El-Ahrairah and each individual enemy, had Jack come _back_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh, look, the sleeping beauty awakes! And now things are going to get... _fun_. -rubs hands together-
> 
> Edit: It has been pointed out that today is Wednesday. TODAY IS MY THURSDAY AT WORK, DON'T JUDGE ME! -goes off to cry-


	8. A Bicycle Built for Two

Jack yawned, and stretched. His back popped and complained, but it felt so _good_. "You know," he said, and moved around the fire to sit down next to Bunny. "I think I'm over my nostalgia."

"Your what now?" Bunny asked, rasping. He was doing much better; a full week of mostly-solid food had gotten him to the point that he was awake almost as much as he was asleep, and able to sit up and hold a conversation. He was still a bundle of sticks, but he was starting to get padding on said sticks and his fur was growing back.

"I used to miss doing dishes," he said, and gestured towards the small wash basin he'd set up. The little clearing was becoming quite homey. Mostly because he still flat-out refused to go into Bunny's house, because - he hadn't told Bunny this, but the rabbit had probably figured it out - the place was still creepy. Phil had sent over some supplies, with a few of the female yeti.

"Why would you miss doing that?"

He shrugged. "My chore, back when, you know, I was..." Alive. With his family. Not invisible. So many things to say, and no way to say any of it without making things awkward and gloomy.

He was doing his best to avoid awkward and gloomy. Bunny was sick - and what had happened? - and needed to stay upbeat and cheerful.

Bunny shook his head, carefully. "I'd have thought any sisters you had would be doing that," he said. "If I recall, that sort of thing was, ah..."

"Gender lines?" Jack said. "Yeah, no. Not in my family. Dad was kind of the old, committed bachelor, before Mom whacked him over the head and dragged him off to church to get married." He grinned at the memory. "Dad made sure all us boys learnt how to cook, and clean, and sew and all that stuff, because... how'd he put it... Right. He was 'damned if any of his brats would shame the family with ratty clothes and starve to death because they couldn't cook'. He taught my sisters 'boy' stuff too. Annalisa, my older sister, was a better carpenter than any of us boys."

Bunny smiled faintly. "How many siblings did you have?" he asked. "Mine was a small family," he added. Jack did his best not to react; he now knew ten times more about Bunny than he ever had before. "Just me, Mum and Dad, and Uncle Briar."

"Briar?" Jack repeated, just a hint of teasing good humor in his voice.

Really. Just a hint.

"That's the translation, anyways," Bunny grumbled. "Anyways, you?"

"Massive, but that was kind of par for the course for Catholic farmers. Let's see..." He leaned back, weight on his hands, and thought. It'd been a long time since he'd actually, deliberately remembered his family. After getting his memories back, he'd thought about them in a general way about once a day, usually, but getting into specifics hurt.

"In order, there was Noah, Abigail, Madison, Jacob, Annalisa, Mason - who became a mason, go figure - me, Olivia, and then Emma was the youngest by a lot. Kind of a surprise, actually." He sighed, and carefully stopped thinking about them. "Emma was my favorite because, well, she was the baby. Olivia and I were too close in age for her to be anything but annoying, you know?"

"I wish I did," Bunny said, and closed his eyes.

Jack frowned, and stared at the overgrown rabbit. After several minutes, he cleared his throat. "Hey. Bunny?"

Bunny sighed, and half opened his eyes. "What?"

He opened his mouth, and then looked away. "Um, have I apologized yet?"

Bunny sounded surprised when he said, "For what?"

"Yelling at you."

"You..." Bunny shook his head. "You don't have to. It's alright."

Jack glared at him. "But I _do_ have to, and it's _not_ alright! I said things... I didn't mean them. Well," he allowed, "not _all_ of them. But I don't hate you. Never have, even when we were butting heads the most."

Bunny stared at him, and then looked away. His jaw worked, like he was chewing over words he wasn't sure he wanted to say just yet. Finally, he did speak. " _Why_?" he asked.

He didn't have to elaborate. "It's usually safe to get angry with you," Jack said. He looked down at his hands. "You're not spring the way I'm winter, but you are a representation, so usually you cancel out enough of my... winter-ness that -"

"Ya lost me, Frostbite."

Jack huffed, and nodded. "Sorry. I'm kind of used to this... Um, do you know about Manitous?"

Bunny rolled his eyes. "Sure. Spirits of natural wonders, like the Yellow River, or Hawaii's volcanoes, Mt. Everest..."

"And winter," Jack said, and bowed as best as he could, considering he was sitting down. "I'm the Great Manitou of the winter season."

"You... what?" Bunny's eyes looked wide enough to fall out of his head. Jack suppressed the urge to push them back in. "I've never heard of that!"

"There wasn't one before me," Jack said. "No one knows why I'm a Manitou, instead of an elemental. But... Usually, when I get... snippy..." He sighed. "I have to keep control over my emotions, or storms... happen."

"Storms," Bunny repeated.

"Big ones. It's... I don't let myself get too sad or angry, usually, because if I do..." He spread his hands helplessly. "But it's like, when you're around, that part's blunted. So I can snip and snarl with you, and the weather isn't changed."

Bunny nodded, staring off into the middle distance. "That's what you mean by safe."

"Yeah." Jack laughed, but there wasn't much humor in it. "Means I'm horrible at being angry, though. I... I don't know how, you know?" He scowled. "I'm not making any sense."

"You are, a little," Bunny assured him. "You say things you don't mean...?"

"Yeah. So combine the part where I feel safe yelling at you, and the part where I kind of just exploded after... everything..." Jack sighed. "I'm so sorry, Bunny. Mind you, I'm not happy about some stuff, but I never, ever wanted to _hurt_ you like I must've."

He looked up at Bunny through his bangs, surely the picture of 'hangdog' at the moment. "I don't hate you, you know. I don't always _like_ you, but you're probably my best friend."

Bunny closed his mouth after a few minutes. "Ah, well," he said, finally, accent so thick Jack could barely understand him. "Oi guess... reckon... ye're mine."

* * *

Aster woke up to the smell of eggs and chives, and the sound and feel of his stomach growling. He muttered a soft complaint, but Jack somehow heard him and was there almost at once, helping him sit up, adjusting the pillows and cushions to support his weight.

"Breakfast will be a few more minutes," Jack murmured, and smoothed a hand over Aster's head and ears. He kept doing that, and Aster would have protested...

... except it felt so very nice...

"Long as it's not oatmeal," Aster said, throwing off the temporary muzzy-headed-ness that tended to follow Jack's casual touches. He'd had another one of those odd dreams of a winter hell-storm and the snow-cats. This time the cats had been curled around and piled over him, a pile of warm fur and hard muscle while the storm had brooded overhead.

He had no idea why he was still having those dreams, as he was past the point of hallucinations, but... this one had been rather nice, actually. He hadn't been at all worried about the tigers and snow leopards.

"I don't get why you don't like it," Jack said. Aster took a second or two to remember what they were talking about. "It tastes great."

"To _you_ , maybe," he countered. "T' me it tastes like iron-flavored slop, and the texture!"

"More for me, then," Jack said, half-laughing. He stroked Aster's head again, and then moved over to the small campfire he was cooking over.

Aster took the opportunity to look around, again. Things tended to change while he slept, Jack shifting things about when he was using them and then when he wasn't. He could only assume the boy had some kind of claustrophobia, insisting on tending Aster out here instead of properly tucked away inside the house. Of course, if Jack had claustrophobia, what was he doing being so comfortable in a cave? But, Aster supposed, his Warren was quite the large cave, with trees growing inside, and the ceiling overhead positively dripping with climbing vines, which could make it look like the outdoors... Maybe.

Human eyes were different from Pookan, he knew that. Maybe Jack was able to forget he wasn't outside, so long as there weren't four walls around him.

"Okay!" Jack chirped. "Breakfast!"

Aster raised an eyebrow, and eyed the offerings. Eggs, of course. Admitting he could eat them seemed to have been Jack's cue to have them in at least one meal per day, near as he could figure. They were scrambled, with chives and parsley and there was a small cup of liquid honey to pour on them. There was another cup of yogurt, and a third of fruit.

After some consideration, Aster poured half of the honey over his eggs, and the other half over the fruit, followed by the yogurt. He was absurdly pleased for doing that on his own, though his hands were shaking so badly after the effort that it almost wasn't worth it.

Jack smiled, and picked up the fork without comment. "Eggs?" he asked, and scooped up a reasonable mouthful when Aster nodded.

Jack managed to keep the whole feeding thing from getting awkward, though admittedly he'd had enough practice by now. Aster hadn't the strength to do much more than lie back and chew each mouthful thoroughly before swallowing. By the time the meal was done, he was ready to doze while Jack did the dishes.

It was surprisingly restful, listening to the quiet clink and slosh, dishes bumping against each other as the water lapped at the sides of the basin. Jack muttered to himself, a running commentary on the dishes and the washing that Aster could have listened to if he'd wanted, but didn't this time.

He was alive.

He still couldn't figure out why.

Aster could feel the... the broken shards of his heart, tearing and stabbing. But he was alive, and he was getting better. It shouldn't have been possible. To put it in terms even _North_ could understand, his magical core had been so badly damaged he couldn't sustain his own life anymore.

The energy, the strength, to heal _had_ be coming from outside of him, then. But where? And who?

And more importantly, how and why?

"Jack?" he whispered, cracking his eyes open.

"Yeah?" The dishes must have been done. Jack moved away from them, and wiped his hands dry on the front of his sweater. Aster wrinkled his nose a bit at that.

"Why... why'm I not dead?"

Jack blinked. His grin was rather lopsided. "Because I'm taking care of you? I thought you were more observant than that, Bun-Bun."

His glare was less than impressive, but he made the effort all the same. "No. I was dying. I _should_ be dead. How'd you haul me back?"

Jack stopped smiling. His expression... Aster was suddenly reminded of _that_ day, how utterly expressionless Jack had been while all the while his eyes had blazed with a hate and rage that had struck him dumb to see it. Jack showed no emotion now, though once more his eyes blazed; with determination instead of hate, passion instead of rage.

Still. Aster shivered to see it.

And he thought he heard, at the furthest ranges he could pick up, the howling of a storm.

"I used Tooth's emergency access," he said, his voice nearly inflectionless. Yet there was a curious tension there, that made Aster's spine prickle on hearing it. "The Warren was overgrown. I found you. I... thought you were dead at first, but then I realized you weren't, and..."

Aster had to look away from Jack at that point.

"I had to do _something_! I - I remembered a story I'd heard once," Jack said, calming down. Aster looked at him again. "They chased me off before I could hear the ending, but it was about a unicorn and a firebird, and -"

"And three drops of blood," Aster said, lips gone numb.

"Oh, you heard that story too?" Jack asked, his emotionless mask falling away. He dropped down into an easy, cross-legged posture next to Aster, and leaned forward. "Could you tell me the end?"

Could he... tell Jack the end? He swallowed down a hysterical giggle, though clearly not well enough going by Jack's dubious expression.

"I - you don't - you gave me three drops of your blood?" he asked. His voice got uncomfortably shrill up at the end.

"Well, yeah. That's what the story said to do," Jack said. "And it worked."

Aster reached up and rubbed at his face. "Of _course_ it did," he said. "It always works. So you... don't know what it means?"

"I wouldn't ask if I already knew," Jack pointed out.

"It means we're _married_ ," Aster said, and braced himself for the yelling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't get the reference in the chapter title, I will cry. There will be tears, and snot, and horrific wailing noises as I sob my sorrow and dispair.
> 
> Also, who called the relationship upgrade/downgrade? Anyone?


	9. I'm Not in Love

"Married?" Jack repeated, one eyebrow going up. It made for quite the effective dubious expression, especially when he ducked his head that way. "Seems kind of... simple, for a marriage ceremony. You're sure?"

Aster's jaw dropped. "Am I - of course I'm sure! And anyways, the older rituals are all simpler than the newfangled twaddle. Simpler tends to bind tighter!"

The boy leaned forward, eyes narrowed, and poked Aster in the forehead. "Did you just say twaddle with a straight face?"

What was Jack's game? Why wasn't he reacting properly? He'd all but destroyed North's Workshop in a rage when the others had assumed he and Aster were getting married, but now that Aster told him that - due to a half-heard, half-remembered story - they _were_ married, he just... didn't seem to care.

His confusion must have been obvious, and it wouldn't have taken a detective to know why. Jack sat back on his heels, and looked pensive.

"This married thing is why you're alive, right?"

He took a quick stock of his situation, and then nodded. "Yeh, I'd imagine so."

Jack shrugged. "Then I'm glad."

Glad? _Glad_? "Wot the bleeding _hell_ , Frostbite?" he asked. Or demanded. Or pleaded, maybe. "The others assume and you flip yer lid, but now we _are,_ you're _glad_?"

"Don't freak out, Bunny. Marriages can be dissolved right?" Jack rested one hand on Aster's shoulder. Aster told himself he wasn't shaking. Much. "I'm glad you're not dead. If being married is what'll keep you alive until you're healthy again, then we'll be married."

He paused, and frowned. "Uh, we don't have to, uh, _do_ anything, do we? I mean, I don't think you're up to anything, and I don't... I mean..." He shrugged helplessly. "I like girls, Bunny. Always have. And you're not a girl."

Aster looked down, and fiddled with the blanket draped over his lap. Not that there was anything much to see down there. Occasionally his more alien physique was actually useful, but he appreciated the covering. "I could be," he admitted.

Jack nodded, and patted his shoulder. "Yeah, but - wait, what?" His eyes fairly bugged out of his head, and he must have given himself whiplash he turned to look at Aster so quickly.

Aster's lips twitched. "I could be a girl. Woman, anyways." His smile faded. "Shapeshifter. It's... possible."

"Possible," Jack repeated, blinking several times in rapid succession. "Okay then." He shook his head. "But, no, Bunny... You wouldn't be you. If you were a girl. Even if you weren't a rabbit, which, um..." He ducked his head.

Ah. It was species and gender that were the problem. Understandable. "I get you, mate," he said, and patted Jack's hand, still on his shoulder. "It's alright."

"I'm sorry, Bunny," Jack said.

He took a deep breath. "This was all started by me wanting to... to ask you out so we could see if it were even _possible_ ," he admitted.

Of course, that was then. And now...

He watched Jack go back to his self-applied chores, and then closed his eyes. Now, however, he rather feared that he was developing feelings, painful and utterly hopeless feelings.

Because Jack was here. He was here, and he was being gentle, and kind, and understanding. He was caring for Aster, doing things he was clearly uncomfortable with, and doing them with a smile. Aster was exposed to the boy nearly every minute he was awake, and he found he liked what he saw.

But it was utterly impossible.

If only the broken pieces of his heart would listen to reason.

* * *

Jack didn't get what the big deal was, _really_. So they were married? Big deal, it wasn't like anything would or _could_ happen. He'd never heard of anything that couldn't be undone afterwards, though usually there needed to be some kind of condition or other for it to work properly. So there, they'd stay married long enough for Bunny to get back on his feet, then go... do whatever was needed to break the magical tie Jack had accidentally created.

In the mean time, since Bunny apparently knew what was going on, Jack would ask questions. Just in case.

"What does the married thing do, anyways? And how's it able to keep you from dying?" Jack finished cutting up the salad, and handed over the fork. It was oddly shaped and oversized for his fingers, but looked right for Bunny's.

Which made sense. It _was_ his fork, after all.

"It depends on a few things," Bunny said. He paused to eat a few bites. Jack waited patiently. "To start, how'd you do the exchange?"

"I pricked my finger," he said, and waggled the one in question. "And then I pressed it to a spot on your shoulder that was bleeding."

"So our blood mingled... I must've gotten the three drops, then." Jack shrugged, because that made as much sense as any to him.

Though he wasn't sure how Bunny had gotten the three drops, since his blood had been leaking _out_ , not _in_. Jack supposed he'd figured it'd been the mingling of the three drops that caused the life-saving bond.

"Magic," Bunny said wryly. "Doesn't always make sense. Unfortunately."

"Neither does science," Jack pointed out, just as wryly. "Case in point, hiccups."

"That's not -"

"Biology."

Bunny scowled at him, and waved it off. "It means you're a bit more bound than I am, since I seem to have gotten the drops."

"How can you tell?" Jack pointed at Bunny's glass. "Think you can manage on your own this time?"

Bunny's expression said, clearly, that he'd manage on his own because the only other option involved Jack helping. And clearly, Bunny wanted to do it on his _own_.

... Jack would _not_ mention that Sophie wore the same expression when it came time to get dressed every morning. No matter how funny the comparison was.

"I'm getting strength from you," Bunny said, and wrapped both hands around the glass. He lifted, and while his hands shook, he was able to take a quick drink. He lowered the glass before he could drop it, looking pleased.

"Yeah, but you don't have any strength to lose," Jack pointed out. "Or give, or have taken, whatever."

"It's the act of _giving_ , I've always figured." He played with the fork, before taking it up for another bite of salad. "I wasn't conscious, so I couldn't _give_ you my blood."

"Ah," Jack said, and nodded sagely. "Semantics. Magic seems to be fond of it."

"And puns, and loopholes that'd shame a lawyer," Bunny agreed, looking sour. "Damn bloody nonsense I've always thought."

"So, to get back on track," Jack prompted.

"Right, right, keep yer socks on."

"Bunny," Jack said, very seriously, "I don't wear socks."

The rabbit threw a piece of pepper at him.

"Mature. Very mature."

"Shut yer gob, Frostbite."

Now this was more like it! Jack grinned, and settled himself more comfortably in front of Bunny. He ignored his own salad, because story time was more important.

"So," he said.

"Right." Jack half-closed his eyes, and enjoyed the way Bunny's accent made the word into 'roight'. "Well, since you gave me your blood, you created the bond going from you to me. Means I get strength from you, though I doubt a partial bond will let me communicate with you mind to mind..."

Jack blinked. Tilted his head, wrinkled his nose, and blinked again. "Telepathy?" he asked, tilting his head the other way.

"It's been known to happen."

"Creepy," he pronounced.

"Agreed." Bunny took another quick drink, and once more looked pleased, despite his shaking hands. "But this means... eh, if you'll do anything to damage or threaten the bond..." He ducked his head and stared at Jack, the fine creases at the corners of his eyes getting deeper, more pronounced. His ears went back, too, similar to a horse listening to danger.

"I'm not going to yell," Jack said, and shoved the annoyance to a distant mental closet. "You can stop looking like I'll go all Wendigo on you."

Bunny at least didn't look _too_ dubious. "I know that."

Jack sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I get that it's a bad track record and all -"

"Jack, I do know -"

"- but even if I was going to get upset, and I'm not, it wouldn't be while you're still... naked." And in need of help wiping down with the oiled cloth. At least, thank goodness, Bunny was able to take over cleaning his own privates. Jack wasn't sure which of them had been more embarrassed when Bunny realized Jack had been doing it, and didn't really care to know, either.

"Fine, then," Bunny said. "I won't get hurt, but you will."

That made about as much sense as the rest of it. "What'd threaten the bond?" he asked.

"Try not to make out with any pretty girls while we're married," Bunny said dryly. "I don't think you'd like the resulting pain."

"Gotcha. Cheating is bad, don't do it," he joked.

Bunny just nodded, and focused on his salad. Apparently story time was over. Jack couldn't blame him; he must've been tired already.

* * *

It took several days, and another visit from some yeti - this group, three of them, much neater and politer than the first two - before he worked up the... the courage... to ask Jack another question.

Not that they didn't talk in between that time. But mostly Jack was asking the questions, everything from "what's that plant?" to "how quick will your fur be grown back?" and "how much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?"

Still, answering the questions wasn't nearly as nerve wracking as asking.

He wasn't sure if he was more worried about Jack flipping his lid again... or the answers themselves.

"Frostbite?" he asked. Jack wasn't in immediate view, but that was alright. Aster could hear his steady breathing off a little ways at the fountain. He was getting the daily water for drinking, as compared to the daily water for dishes, cooking, and the scant amount of laundry that needed to be done.

"Yeah, Bun-Bun?" Jack walked back into view, carrying the heavy bowl with care, his sleeves dripping at the cuffs. Further up his arms the water had frozen, so the stiff fabric didn't shift properly with his careful movements. "What's up?"

He discarded his originally worded question. "The others haven't been by. Have they?"

Jack paused, and then very carefully set the bowl down. He poked his finger into the water, and Aster heard the faint crackle of thin ice breaking. "Nope."

He didn't shiver. Well. Not much. "Why not? The yeti've been by."

"Yup." Jack took his hands away from the bowl, and tucked them in his sweater pocket. "But the others don't know."

"Why not?" he asked.

Jack went expressionless, except for the rolling turmoil in his eyes. "I didn't tell them. And they haven't been by to check on you. For _three months_..." He bit off whatever else he was going to say, and ducked his head so his bangs hid most of his face. When he looked up, he had on an expression of good humor and easy cheer, but it was like his clothes. Something he _wore_. Not something he _felt_.

"Besides. Do you really think we'd be married if I'd gone to them for advice?"

Aster tried to convey, in a single wordless gesture, that North was thicker than two short planks, Tooth had kept with the times but her opinions on marriage and romance had been formed in India a thousand years ago, and Sandy was a _star_. Made out of _sand_.

... Sandy was also better at the wordless conversations. Jack just looked confused.

Aster sighed. "They're my friends, Jack, but... think about what you just said, hm?"

At least the fake expression went away while Jack thought. His grimace was just as real. "Point. Well, anyways, no. They don't know, and I haven't told them. And before you ask why, I... don't think it'd be good to see them right now."

His ears fell back, to get them down and harder to reach, and he very carefully asked, "Your temper?"

Jack frowned at him, and then his face fell. Aster had always figured that sort of expression was nothing more than exaggeration and hyperbole, but it figured he would be proven wrong. Everything about the boy just seemed to fall an inch, including his face. His jaw seemed to loosen and get a bit lower on his face, the corners of his lips turned down, his cheeks went slack and his eyes were as droopy as a basset hound's, it seemed. Even his hair looked limp.

"You're afraid of me," he murmured, and looked away.

He wanted to deny it, but wasn't sure if it'd be a lie. "Jack..."

"No." Jack took a deep breath, and smiled very faintly, still not looking at him. "I get it, Bunny."

"I don't think you do," he said.

In a flash, Jack's expression changed once again, becoming frustrated. His eyes darkened as his brows furrowed. His nose wrinkled up a little, and his lips twisted as though he'd just bitten into something sour. "So _explain_ it! I don't _want_ you to be afraid of me and I don't _want_ to be scary! Please, tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it!"

Aster reached up and rubbed at his chest. "I... Jack..."

As abruptly as it appeared, Jack's frustration seemed to die away, leaving him looking tired. Only that. "Please, Bunny."

He looked down. "You broke my heart, Jack," he said, very careful to talk to his lap. Because that way he wouldn't have to see the damage his words would inevitably do. "Not that I was in love with you or anything, but... I wanted to see. To try. And then, you thought the worst of me. You tore into me, threw my intentions back in my face - twisted about until they didn't resemble what I'd wanted, but still - and then..."

He sighed. "I'm never going to get better, Jack."

"Y-you're not? I don't - what do you mean? You're getting better right now!"

"A broken heart is fatal to a Pooka, mate," he said, and dared look up. He really shouldn't have. Jack's expression was horrible to look at, for the pain held therein.

"All you've done is delay things. And now when I go, I'm afraid I might drag you with me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I like cliffhangers? Because obviously I do, but why? Seriously? I must have a disease... an Evil Author disease... Luff you all!


	10. Everything's All Right

Jack froze.

Ice spread from his hands, up his arms, across his shoulders and over his face. It spread down his chest and stomach, wrapped around his legs, and stopped a bare millimeter above the ground. It turned him completely white, froze his hair into nasty looking spikes, and got thicker and thicker with every beat of Aster's heart.

One corner of Aster's mind promptly started gibbering about how he was helpless, how Jack was going to leave, or break their bond, and how he didn't _want_ to die - but most of his brain, stupid thing, was entirely focused on how... pretty Jack looked. Glistening in the light like that. His fingers itched for a pencil, or maybe a bit of charcoal, and a sketchpad.

"Are you fucking nuts?" Jack asked, and promptly shattered the picture he made. He started brushing at the ice covering him, which did absolutely nothing except make a lot of cracking sounds. Jack grunted, and folded his arms.

Had he said anything about sketching Jack out loud? No. He hadn't, so Jack wasn't talking about that. Right, dying. "It's the truth. You went and bonded yourself to me with marriage -"

"I wasn't _talking_ about that!" Jack shifted his weight onto his back foot, and sliced one hand through the air. "What do you mean, you're dying? You're not dying!"

Aster sighed. "But I am. A broken heart is fatal to Pooka."

"You said that." Jack lifted his chin and jutted his jaw forward. "It's stupid."

"It's biology," Aster said mildly.

"Stupid biology then. What happens if you stop being all broken hearted?" Jack brushed at his hair, and this time flakes of ice fell off.

Aster frowned. "I don't know. No one had ever survived to that point."

Jack glared at him, and then sniffed. "That's stupid. Bet they did, and you just don't know. Think about it. Because I'm not letting you die. That's not in my reality."

He turned on his heel, and stalked off. Aster didn't bother watching him go. Instead, he lay back on the pillows and closed his eyes.

How could he possibly heal from a broken heart?

It wasn't possible. Jack was wrong. Aster was going to die, and at this rate, he'd bring Jack down with him.

He had to admit it to himself, if no one else. The situation was hopeless.

* * *

Stupid, self-destructive rabbit. Jack swung his staff back and forth in aborted arcs, not quite hitting trees and bushes and tall clumps of grasses or the occasional stone golem egg thing.

"What're you looking at?" he demanded of one, which - with a really annoying grinding sound - switched its face to a disapproving one. "Yeah? Well, your master or creator or employer... He's an idiot!"

The egg golem switched its face to a less disapproving frown. He chose to take it for inquisitive.

Jack threw his hands up in the air. "He's determined to die because I yelled at him! Okay, so I was mean, but what the hell does he mean 'no I'm dying there's nothing you can do to stop it'? Huh? Like hell he is! And like hell there's nothing! I'm going to make sure that stupid, idiot rabbit-boss of yours not only doesn't die, but I'm going to hold it over his head for the rest of forever! I will greet him with an 'I told you so' and I will say goodbye with an 'I told you so' and he will just have to suffer. _Suffer_ I say!"

Somehow, without changing expression, the golem managed to look skeptical and annoyed with Jack's melodrama.

"Oh, shut up." Jack sighed, and slumped down on a rock. "It's all so stupid, you know. People get over broken hearts all the time. And they don't will themselves to death like he has! I bet you anything he figured he was going to die anyways, so why try fighting it? Idiot."

The golem rocked from side to side, and then seemed to sag on its 'little' legs. Jack smiled faintly at its antics.

"Yeah, you know what I'm talking about. Bunny - the name is synonymous with 'emotionally a moron'."

The golem switched to rocking back and forth. Then it waddled - there really was no better description for the motion, especially since it didn't seem to have proper knees - over to Jack, and nudged him in the shoulder. Jack nudged back, smiling faintly.

His smile faded quickly enough, though. Why was Bunny being so stubborn? There was no reason for it. It wasn't like Jack would let him will himself to death, and with the marriage thing feeding him strength, Bunny would get better whether he wanted to or not. They'd make up from the argument - or rather, from Jack tearing Bunny an undeserved new one - and then the idiot rabbit would find himself getting emotionally better as well. And then there'd be no more of this 'I'm dying and there's nothing you can do about it' stupidity.

So there!

He even nodded to himself, and smirked. So, what, he had another... two, three weeks of beating his head against Bunny's stubbornness, before the Easter Bunny clued in that Jack was right and he wasn't dying anymore. After that, probably another month, maybe two, before Bunny was back on his feet.

That wouldn't be too bad.

And he'd totally tell Bunny 'I told you so' every chance he could get. For at least a millennia. Maybe two.

Jack stood up, and stretched. "Well," he told the golem, "I'd better get back. If I don't, Bunny's sure to -"

And then it felt like someone had _yanked_ on his insides.

Jack fell to his hands and knees, and then toppled over onto his side. His heart was beating unevenly, and pain radiated up and down his left side, like the world's worst collection of pins and needles.

Not a heart attack, not quite, not yet. Jack growled, and caught up his staff. The golem moved closer, and he used it to help lever himself up, bracing sideways against the golem and using his staff as a third leg.

Then he hobbled back towards Bunny as quickly as possible.

* * *

"What the _hell_ do you think you're _doing_?"

Aster jerked, and his eyes snapped open. The short burst of adrenaline gave him enough energy to lift his head and look over at Jack, storming towards him like an avenging soldier.

Or hobbling, at any rate. He looked drawn, worn out in a way he hadn't just that morning. His skin had a hint of gray around the edges, and his eyes had gone flat and dull.

Hellfires, it was starting already? Aster had felt himself start to backslide, even so soon. That it was also effecting Jack only confirmed his fears.

"Cut it out!" Jack snapped. He stopped right near Aster's feet. "I mean it!"

"Cut what out?" he mumbled, too tired to enunciate.

"You know what I'm talking about! The sad sack impersonation! I can feel you drawing on my energy, and I need it!"

Aster closed his eyes again. "You're the one that married me."

"N-not... Damn it." He cracked one eye open, and saw Jack rubbing at the right side of his chest. No, he was facing Aster. The left side. "I m-mean it. Cut it out. I - owww..."

And then Jack collapsed on top of his legs.

"Jack?" Aster forced himself upright, enough to look down his body at the prone boy. "Jack!"

He shook like a leaf in a summer storm, but he managed to get Jack rolled off his legs and onto the boy's back. He wasn't breathing.

"Jack!" Aster fumbled weakly at Jack's sweater, then gave it up as a lost cause and simply pressed one long ear to the boy's chest. Even muffled by cotton, he'd be able to hear a heartbeat.

Except there wasn't one.

Aster sat back, and stared down at Jack's - not corpse, _not corpse_ \- body. Then he shook his head, and placed his hands over Jack's diaphragm, prelude to the first chest compression.

He'd have to be careful. There was a fine line between helping, and breaking ribs.

Jack coughed, and swatted weakly at his hands. "Grrf," he growled, and coughed again. "Iblt."

Aster's jaw dropped, and then - despite weak protests - leaned forward again and listened. There was a heartbeat. Weak, as uneven as a skree slope, but there. Unthinking, he hauled Jack up into the closest thing to a hug he could manage, and pressed his face into the crook of Jack's neck.

And then the crook of Jack's staff rapped him over the head.

"Oy!" He pulled back, and glared. "What was that for?"

"Being an idiot," Jack rasped, and set his staff down. He rubbed at his chest. "Making me have a heart attack."

"Making you..." His fingers trembled. "You're saying this is _my_ fault?"

"I have a bad heart! And you went and got all..." Jack waved his staff about, and hit him upside the head again. "Idiot! Heart attacks hurt! I've already had one because of your stupid butt, I didn't want another!"

Aster rubbed at his head, and vowed to steal that staff at the first opportunity. Not _long_ , but if Jack hit him _one more time_...

"You had a heart attack?" he asked, instead of indulging in his fantasy of grabbing that staff and throwing it away. Mind, that hadn't looked like a heart attack to him, but what did he know? It'd been a long, long time since he'd seen anything like heart failure.

Jack glared at him, and the staff twitched, but he didn't hit Aster again. "No, I was hit by lightning. Of course I had a heart attack!"

He took several deep breaths, and the anger faded to annoyance. "We need to talk. Also, you... you're out of bed." Jack's tone turned wondering, and he gestured at Aster. "On your own and everything."

Oh. So he was. And now he was about to fall over, on his own and everything.

Jack caught him, and helped him back to the makeshift bed. Once he was lying down - really, he couldn't do anything else, as tired as he was - Jack draped the blanket over the lower half of his body, hiding his still-concave stomach and groin.

Not, Aster thought, equal parts smug and chagrined, that there was anything to see down there. Pooka had gone for internal genitals, a minor side effect from the pre-intellect days when males would happily castrate each other.

Jack probably thought Aster was sexless, neuter or something like that. He was too tired for it to rankle.

He resolutely did not think about why the thought would rankle.

"Okay," Jack said, and sat down beside Aster, legs crossed and staff across his lap. "So, about your depressed willing yourself to death nonsense -"

"I'm not willing myself to death," Aster snapped.

"Funny," Jack said, snapping right back. "It's what it looks like from here."

"Well, it's not." He folded his arms. "Jack, I'm an alien, right?"

Jack frowned, and inclined his head. "Okay," he said.

"Well, my biology isn't... human normal. With me so far?" The winter spirit nodded, looking dubious. Oh well, no helping that. "I did try. But..." He shrugged. "The moment my despair hit the... the trigger, I guess you'd say, my insides started failing."

He didn't mention the long, long days spent vomiting into... anything. Bushes, mostly. The sink. On himself. He'd tried to eat. Tried to sleep. Tried believing that his position as Guardian of Hope and Easter Bunny might counteract the biological signals telling his body to shut down.

It hadn't.

He'd crawled into his bed, and felt himself dying by inches. The only comfort was that it would end soon, and that the children's belief would surely create a new Easter Bunny.

And then he'd resigned himself to the end.

"It's a stupid alien thing, then," Jack said, but he looked thoughtful.

"As it happens, most of the Pooka agreed with you." It wasn't like they even knew why they had that biological quirk, or where it'd come from. It seemed completely counter to evolution.

"Most?"

Aster shrugged a shoulder. "I don't like dealing in absolutes."

"So what happens if you, I don't know, stop dying?" Jack poked him in the forehead. "Because I'm serious about this. You're not dying."

"Jack." He reached up and massaged his forehead. "I'm dying. Broken heart. There's no _healing_ that!"

At that, the drongo looked smug. Smug! Arse.

"Fine. If there's no healing, why're you getting better?"

Good question. Aster wished he had an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for posting late at night, guys (almost bedtime here), but I had a bit of a day. (Good news, my PS2 stuff came in the mail today. Weird news, I had to arrange a tow for a boat 800 KM across two provinces. Bad news, Dad's in the hospital, but silver lining, the doctors say he'll be fine once the blood thinners start working and his oxygen levels go back up.)
> 
> Oh look Jack's reaction to the "Bunny is dying" bit. I think he took it well.


	11. The Beginning

Jack made sure to keep the idiot, alien rabbit busy after his heart attack. The less time Bunny had to brood - and it was really, really ironic that the Guardian of Hope was being so depressed - then the faster he'd heal.

The idea that, even with alien biology, a broken heart was impossible to heal from was... was _stupid_. Granted, Jack did accept, now, that it wasn't Bunny's choice, but still. Keep positive, keep alive, keep drawing on Jack's personal energy...

And Bunny had most of his fur back by now, which just proved Jack's point.

He had a few odd patches, spots where the sores had scarred just a little bit, but otherwise looked almost back to normal. If the observer ignored how starved he still looked. And Bunny assured Jack that, should he live long enough, the scars would also fade away.

"A Pooka can heal near about perfectly, if given enough time," Bunny had admitted.

Jack had pointedly _not_ smacked him upside the head, but restrained himself to a pointed look.

Now that Bunny was more or less mobile, it was time for the 'fun' portion of all recovery; physical therapy. Bunny took it better than Jack would have, in the same position. Less complaining, for one thing.

Since Jack knew absolutely nothing about that, he shamelessly stole one of Phil's yeti - again, female, because the ladies had the brains of that bunch, which led to suspicions about Phil that he'd never, ever voice because Phil would kill him - and that was really where the problem started.

Joan was a good cook. Which was good, because Bunny started putting on weight like it was going out of style. Jack also put on a few pounds, just enough that he stopped looking like he'd been on short rations all winter, and instead like the harvest feasting had only just stopped.

Joan also had Bunny start his physical therapy with stretches, to loosen up tight muscles and push his stamina. She had him work at it until he was sweating, which... surprise, Pooka sweated like humans. Jack had figured they'd be more like dogs, with panting and sweat glands only on the paws.

It was so weird he just had to ogle the sessions. At first, they went only five minutes at a time, since Bunny couldn't really go much longer than that. They were frequent, though; Joan was a big believer in pushing her patients' physical limits, it seemed.

Jack hung around for a week or two, but Joan had everything well in hand. So he took off, for an hour here, a day there, keeping an eye on his territory. So to speak. There were kids he liked checking in on, nasty spirits that were kept on a short leash, and since it was North America, he usually dropped in for a chat with Yellowstone. The old volcano was a bit dotty, but nice enough. Kept calling him Howard for some reason, but that wasn't a big deal.

He used the outings to test his new limits. He could feel Bunny drawing off his power now, a steady trickle that felt... he wasn't sure how it felt. The closest analogy was probably blood leaking from a wound, but that didn't quite fit. There wasn't any pain, for one thing. For another, there was an odd sense of _joy_ in knowing that the power he lost was going to Bunny, saving and healing his friend.

It did mean that it was harder to use his magic, but the difference was akin to using his staff with his feet instead of his hands.

He wasn't sure what it said about him that supporting another major spirit's life was only a minor loss of power, and wasn't sure he really wanted to know. Sure, he was a Great Manitou, but c'mon. There were the Great Manitou and then there were the _Great Manitou_ , and he knew where he stood.

On the other hand, as inactive as Bunny was being, there didn't seem to be a large power loss going on, so...

Now his head hurt.

Jack huffed, and dropped down onto one of the egg golems. His trip outside had been dissatisfying in an odd way, like - like, he supposed, those adults who went around thinking they'd left the stove on felt all the time. Definitely a first for Jack. After all, he'd gone without a home, and a stove, for so long...

The only thing he could figure was that he'd gotten used to being in the Warren twenty-four-seven, taking care of everything. Now that he wasn't needed, it left him feeling... just a little off balance.

Joan waved at him, and then called him over. Being a yeti of few words, she just screamed his name until he gave in to the inevitable and sauntered over.

"How's tricks?" he asked, and looked over at where Bunny was stretching out after whatever torture Joan'd had him doing this time.

Bunny was...

Jack blinked, and looked the overgrown rabbit over, head to toe, mouth falling open as he did.

Bunny looked almost _better_ than before. He was still scrawny, but he'd managed to put on muscle, so maybe it was more like whipcord over bone. Jack could see just about every line of said whipcord muscle, since the rabbit had sweated - and seriously, sweating like a human? With fur? It made no sense! - to the point that his fur was plastered to his body. So it looked more like he was wearing paint. Or something.

Bunny shifted into a new stretch, which made muscles flex and limbs tremble, and Jack took three steps forward before he'd realized it, hands itching to touch.

Not help, which should've been his first impulse, but touch. To stroke along those shaking arms, and then up over the shoulders and down Bunny's sides, and trail his fingertips across his stomach, taught and still somewhat concave, and then down -

And what the hell was he even _thinking_?

Jack froze in place, to the point where a thin layer of ice formed over his sweater and calves. And then over his cheeks and hair when he realized that his penis was actually _stirring_ , apparently driven on by the sight of a sweaty Bunny at the end of a work out.

What. The hell. Was going on?

Jack ignored his stupid, rebellious body, and grinned when Bunny looked up. "Looking good, Cottontail. Ready for your bath?"

Bunny snorted, and shifted to a vaguely yoga-esque position, which meant he was kneeling on the ground, stretching his back so his chest nearly touched the ground and his rear was up in the air. Bowing dog? Playful dog? Doggy style?

Jack actually smacked himself in the face with his staff. Lightly. Because what? What?

No, really, _what_?

"Ah, you right there, mate?" Bunny asked. From the sounds of things, it wasn't the first time he'd asked, either.

"Peachy. Just losing my mind, nothing important."

Bunny's lips twitched. "You had a mind in the first place?"

On the upside, Jack decided, at least Bunny had lost the wary look in his eyes when he decided to tease Jack.

* * *

Bath time was an unfortunately necessary ritual after Joan's tortures, and Jack had always enjoyed helping out. Really, it was just the old 'wipe down with cloth' routine from before, just... wetter. Jack didn't have to do too much now, apart from hang around and make sure Bunny didn't pass out from exhaustion and drown, but he also helped out with washing the rabbit's back. Even super-flexible Easter Bunnies had difficulty with between the shoulder blades, and Bunny wasn't actually all that flexible at the moment.

"I don' see what's wrong with m' house," Bunny said, slurring a little bit.

Jack eyed the water - near boiling hot-spring type thing - with an appropriate degree of respect. "I will bulldoze that horror you call a house and make you build new," he said in reply. "You going to soak or scrub already?"

"Water feels nice."

He supposed so. Jack wasn't too fond of, y'know, boiling himself alive. It'd been a habit thing at first. Growing up, water had to be carefully heated in kettles over the fireplace, then poured into a hip bath. Each kettle of water had to be pumped from the well. And there'd been the hierarchy of bathtime, too - Dad first, then the next two boys without changing the water, then a new bath would be prepared for Jack's other two brothers and himself. Then the water would be changed _again_ , and Mom and Jack's three sisters would bathe, and the whole thing was just such an effort it almost wasn't worth heating the water.

And then of course he'd gone and drowned to become a spirit, resulting in an instinctive distrust of all water in sizes bigger than a large _bucket_.

"Lean forward, I'll do your back," he said, as much to distract himself from old memories as because Bunny seemed to enjoy being boiled alive and that was just fifty shades of wrong.

Bunny hummed, and shifted so he was sort of leaning forward and sideways at the same time. Jack was able to reach the rabbit's back, so it worked out.

He wet his hands, and lathered up the soap. "What's with the sweating thing, anyways?" he asked, and started up at Bunny's neck. He worked his thumbs into the muscles there, drawing a pleased groan from Bunny. Jack smiled. Heck, he outright grinned. Sure, they did this every time Bunny took a bath, but it was still pretty nice every time.

Nothing quite like knowing you were capable of turning a good friend into a puddle of blissful, pleading mush.

"Ri' there," Bunny slurred, shifting and trying to press back into Jack's hands.

Jack laughed, and did as requested, moving slowly down the long lines of sore muscles. "Seriously," he said. "The sweating makes no sense. You have fur. We have to do this every day. I'm astonished you don't have dandruff. All body dandruff."

"Aquatic," Bunny muttered. "Partially."

"So why don't you shed water? And seriously? Otters and seals don't sweat, either."

Bunny cracked one eye open, then made a particularly high-pitched squeaky sound when Jack started working at knotted shoulders. "Ah, chocolate," he said, when words were apparently working again. "Changes biology."

"So you sweat because of chocolate," Jack said, and ran the tips of his fingers back up to the base of Bunny's skull, and then down along his spine. "C'mon, out of the water, can't scrub the rest of your back like this."

Bunny grumbled and sank down a little more in the water. Suds floated out from his fur, where Jack had already worked. "Join me."

"In that?" Jack scratched lightly at the base of Bunny's ears. "You're kidding me, right?"

Bunny grumbled again, and crawled out of the water. Jack very nicely did not point out that he looked like a thrice drowned rat.

Instead, he got to work on Bunny's back, soap and wet fur meaning his hands just glided up and down, up and down, along Bunny's spine and then around to his sides and back up again. So it was a bit more than the back scrub he'd mentioned earlier, so what? Bunny was tired and sore and the least Jack could do, since it was ultimately somehow at least partially his fault, was to help Bunny get a little less sore.

Ninety percent of the blame was on the other three Guardians, because one, what the hell, two, they still hadn't shown up to look in on Bunny or Jack and Tooth at least knew Jack had used an emergency access, and three... Well. Yeah. Three was because he wasn't going to think about this because it just made him get angrier all the time.

Bunny got five percent of the blame because he'd taken Jack's words so _personally_ and forgotten he was the Guardian of _Hope_ , not depression and moping. Jack had five percent for losing his temper.

Jack started humming to himself, and counted the bumps of Bunny's spine. It wasn't as easy as even yesterday.

"I think you're drawing on my power more," he said. Bunny made an odd, grunting-murmur type sound in reply.

He grinned at the sound, and slid his hands down along Bunny's sides, until he was checking how far his hands wrapped around the rabbit's waist. Not very much anymore, which was great to see. Jack's thumbs pressed against those two odd little bumps everyone bipedal seemed to have, where tendons and muscles attached to hips and in Bunny's case, just above his tail. His palms pressed against Bunny's hips. His fingers wrapped forwards, so he was cupping Bunny's sides just below said waist.

His hands were finally beginning to look small again, against Bunny.

About freaking time.

He shifted one hand, and began picking at tiny, almost non-existent tangles in Bunny's tail fluff. Though - he snickered - said fluff wasn't currently very fluffy.

Bunny sighed, and shifted a little bit. His legs got a little more open. His tail twitched. And Jack's eyes were drawn to just below that tail, where he was able to see a little pucker of muscle and skin, and sure he'd seen it before when Bunny'd been unconscious, but this was _different_.

For one thing, his pants had suddenly gotten way, way too tight about the groin.

Jack snatched his hands up off Bunny's tail (and the parts _around_ the tail - holy crap what'd he been _thinking_?) and coughed.

"Yeah, I'm just gonna go... you enjoy your bath, Cottontail."

He hurried off before his hands could get any more ideas about appropriate behavior.

* * *

"Something wrong?" Bunny settled down onto his bed, and stared up at Jack. "You've been acting odd."

"Haven't," Jack denied, and kept his hands tucked into his sweater pocket. Stupid hands, getting all touchy on Bunny's back and tail. Without his telling them too. Which he wouldn't, because holy crap invasion of space much?

"Sure you haven't," Bunny muttered, but he let the subject drop. "You turning in?"

He shrugged a shoulder. "In a few. You?"

This time, Bunny muttered something impolite about Joan. The nicest thing he said about her was 'evil wench from beyond the grave'.

Jack grinned, and knelt down beside the silly rabbit. "Here, I'll tuck you in."

Bunny smirked at him. The firelight made the expression strangely sad. Jack blamed the shifting shadows. "I'm not five."

"Sure you're not. C'mon, don't want you getting cold."

"The cold doesn't bother me," he lied.

Jack didn't roll his eyes. Really. That was also the shifting shadows and firelight's fault. "Humor me, then."

He tucked the blanket up over Bunny's shoulder, which the rabbit immediately ruined by turning over onto one side. Jack fixed it, and then sat back on his heels, for some reason completely unable to look away.

If he slid under that blanket and pressed up against Bunny's back, the other male - man just didn't sound right, when said 'man' had foot long ears and fur - wouldn't toss him out. It'd been a long, long time since Jack had last cuddled people, if you included stray, flea-ridden dogs as people.

Getting attached to animals was just too depressing. They were like mayflies. He'd stopped after the twentieth had died on him after only a year or two.

But Bunny wasn't going to die, because Jack wouldn't let him. Bunny's fur was warm, and soft, and smelt a little like new grass after a gentle rain. He was almost back to normal, now. Jack could curl up against Bunny, and soak in that warmth, fall asleep with that scent in his nose. Maybe take a nibble or two of Bunny's shoulder to see how responsive the rabbit would be to - to...

What. Jack shot up and backwards as silently as he knew how, which was very. He clapped both hands to his face.

Again? _Again_?

What the hell was wrong with him?

He caught up his staff and headed for the tunnels outside.

He needed to think. Clear his head.

Figure out what the hell was going on, because he couldn't seem to shake the idea of sex with Bunny, and he wasn't... he didn't...

He just didn't know.

So he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone wondering about fur plus sweat - raccoons do that too. They pant AND sweat. So it's not like it's unheard of in earthling creatures.
> 
> Also, Jack has urges. This could be a problem. For his sanity.


	12. Storm and Fury

The thunder wasn't a sound, it was a physical force, lifting Aster up and slamming him down against the snow.

With that auspicious beginning, he 'woke up' in the dream of storm and ice. The chaos overhead was all consuming, so much so it was astonishing he could think about it.

The clouds boiled, twisting and churning like _nothing_ he'd ever seen before. Hurricanes were peaceful next to this apocalyptic piece of nature, this ravening beast that tore at the ground below with claws of lightning. There was so much of the electrical discharge, from cloud to cloud and cloud to ground, that the sky seemed full of nothing short of hellfire, lurid red and orange and a white so bright and pure it was too painful to look at even sidelong.

He cowered, stunned and battered into incoherent terror. This wasn't like before. Before there had been anger, even hate. This went so far beyond that, the mind boggled trying to comprehend it.

This was Jack. The storm was Jack. How - why - was he so angry? At Aster? He didn't think so - and it was surprising that he was able to think at all, with what was going on. But, once again, he realized that the storm wasn't directed at _him_ (just everything and everyone else, what a thought) and he was able to look up and around.

The thirteen snow cats weren't anywhere near him. They had retreated, fangs bared, tails lashing, eyes blazing with reflected lightning. Aster was pretty certain that last bit wasn't hyperbole. It was Jack's mind, just about anything was possible.

He was also fairly certain that he didn't want to get near the cats. While he was reasonably certain Jack wouldn't hurt him on purpose, accidents happened. And this was Jack's _mind_.

Feathers touched the back of his wrist, and he about jumped out of his skin. He spun to look, automatically twisting into a balanced crouch, ready to bolt on all fours. Faster that way.

The broke-winged gyrfalcon, black-patterned feathers slicked down against its body, looked mournfully up at him.

"Well," Aster said. His voice echoed strangely, as though he was calling down into a deep well. First time he'd ever talked inside Jack's mind, wasn't it? "This is different."

The bird chirped mournfully, and ducked its head.

Aster reached over, and helped it up onto his wrist. The contact was like silver shocks up and down his arm, not painful, but certainly not normal. The bird chirped at him, and then nipped his fingers when he tried to examine its wing.

"Fine," he said, and cuddled it to his chest, as carefully as he could. "It's your wing."

Birds couldn't snort, but this one made a valiant effort.

* * *

Jack was getting _really_ tired of not sleeping.

But. But and but and _but_.

When he slept, he dreamed. Not Sandy-given good dreams, but hormonal-brain-given... sex dreams.

The last time he'd had a sex dream, he'd watched Madonna filming... God, he couldn't remember which movie it was now, but she'd looked... wow. Just wow. Like a more approachable goddess, the kind that was less into smiting and more into helping. And the dream hadn't exactly been about sex, more about brushing her hair, and having her smile at him, see him, talk with him...

Actually, come to think about it, he was pretty sure that he'd never had a dream that was actually about _sex_.

At least, not until Bunny. Which. What the hell was happening to his _brain_?

Jack dropped down onto a familiar power line, and stalked back and forth like a metronome. On the one hand - actually, _no_ , there were _no_ hands, just a lot of confusion. He was straight. He knew he was, because sex in his fantasies or not, he'd always had fantasies about _women_. Not other men. And if there was a little voice in the back of his head sounding like the preacher in his home village, going on about how men lying with men was wrong, but the union between a man and a woman was as close to a union with God as mankind could come before death...

Who could blame him? Also, the portrayal of Puritans as being horrified by sex alternatively made him laugh until he nearly puked, and ticked him off.

He slapped the power line with the crook of his staff, freezing it over and not incidentally making it bounce and sway beneath his feet. Jack kept his balance, crouching down and wrapping his toes around the iced-over line, waiting for it to calm down.

It didn't really help. It felt like he was about to fly apart at the seams, just... explode into confused and frustrated Jack-pieces.

Because yes, he was straight, he could look at just about any woman he saw and find something that'd make him want to curl up against her and just talk, and enjoy the company. The color of her eyes. Her hair. The way she walked down the street. The way she talked with her friends, her voice low or high, fast paced or a nice, slow drawl... Just about anything.

And then he thought about Bunny.

Jack... He stopped pacing, and stepped up onto the pole, crouching over like a gargoyle from a better class of church. Summer, he reminded himself. It was summer and summer was not a time for snowstorms. Even if it was late summer, it still wasn't a time for snowstorms. No matter how much the power inside him seemed to pop and crackle like a storm in a bottle, he was going to keep his outbursts to things easily melted.

And not bury the Eastern Seaboard in a foot of out-of-season snow.

No matter how much the weathermen would cry.

He let himself think happily about it, though. That one guy, what was his name, Howard Ferguson? Stupid haircut, nasal voice, dressed like an undertaker. He'd probably sob like a baby.

And then, Jack's stupid brain decided to wonder what Bunny would do about out-of-season snow, taking the rest of him along for the ride.

Bunny would be upset, of course. His ears would tilt back - but not flop down against the back of his neck, Jack had noticed he only did that when really relaxed, or really freaked out - and his eyes would get really narrow. His head would tilt down so he'd glower at Jack from under his eyebrows, and there'd be that _tapetum lucidum_ thing with his eyes, like a cat but less dramatic. And his voice would get all low and clipped-Australian. There'd be more slang or strine or whatever it was called. And he'd probably catch hold of Jack's bicep with one hand, and -

_And goddamn it what the hell_? Jack glared down at his groin with all the thwarted fury of winter, unable to go on a rampage because of the stupid season.

He was getting turned on by thinking about Bunny being angry.

This was not cool. At all.

It was stupid, that's what it was. He didn't even like Bunny as a...

At that, Jack had to stop, and take several deep breaths. He'd been about to think that he didn't like Bunny as a friend, but...

He'd gone to a lot of time and effort - a lot of time and effort - and gone way outside his comfort zone for the guy. That... was something you did for a friend. An acquaintance, a coworker, you passed on to someone else. Like... North, or Tooth. Sandy even, though Jack wasn't sure the Sandman would know what to do for someone flesh and blood.

But the idea of passing Bunny off to the others just... Even before getting involved in everything, the idea had never really occurred to him. It'd passed through his mind, gotten a sneer, and went on its way.

Okay. So. He and Bunny, friends.

But that was _it_. There wasn't supposed to be any lust between them!

"Friends don't want to shove their -" Jack muttered to himself, and then pinched the side of his neck. It hurt. It also didn't help with the way his penis wanted to be all erect and throbbing and _annoying_.

The problem was, his hormones had decided to get a mind of their own when it came to the idiot rabbit. It probably wouldn't have become a problem if Bunny hadn't gotten better, because then there wouldn't have been anything to... what. Lust over?

But no. All of a sudden, because he'd taken care of Bunny when he'd been sick, the rabbit was now _his_. Worse, now Bunny had soft, gray fur and sleek muscles coming back, and there was a spot under his tail shaped like a little heart _and why the hell had he even noticed_?

Jack started hitting himself in the face with his staff - gently. More akin to thumping his forehead against a tree, to be perfectly honest, just not with a tree.

He got up and started walking, following the power lines through the neighborhood.

If it'd only been hormones and lust... Well, he'd have ignored it as best he could, waited it out, and moved on when his body started behaving again. Acting on it would've been impolite.

It was just... He didn't just want to... Sex with Bunny wasn't everything...

He wanted what they already had. Talking together. Eating together. Jack... would've happily given up a few of the chores to Bunny, but doing them together would've been nice. He wanted to wash Bunny's back, and massage his shoulders, and maybe get a bit of return attention too. Actually, no maybe about it, but thinking about _Bunny_ touching _Jack_ made his penis twitch more, so he did his best not to think about it.

He raked one hand back through his hair, and growled. Stupid brain. Stupid hormones. Stupid everything.

"Jack! Hey, Jack!"

Jack didn't look up immediately, but when someone started whistling the theme to _that stupid movie_ at him, he kind of had to. If only to tell the person off.

Unfortunately, he couldn't tell Cupcake off, because she was too nice a girl and probably didn't know how much he hated _that movie_.

"Cupcake?" he called, and looked around. Well, how about that, he was all but right beside her home. He hopped into the air and drifted over to her windowsill. "Isn't it kind of late for you to be up right now?"

"My parents are out," Cupcake said. "And Holly bet me twenty bucks I couldn't stay up until dawn."

"Holly?" he repeated, before his brain kicked into gear and threw up the lone factoid about Cupcake's older sister. "I thought she was in college?"

"Off for the summer," Cupcake said. "C'mon in, Jack!"

Ah, what the hell. He ducked through the open window, and settled down on the floor, legs crossed and staff across his thighs.

Cupcake settled down on her desk chair, and spun in a quick circle. "You look upset," she said. "What's wrong? Anything I can help with?"

Cupcake was a friend, a believer, a nine-year-old girl. Jack bit back what he wanted to say, smiled, and told her "no, I'm perfectly fine."

Unfortunately, it came out of his mouth as "I want to have sex with Bunny but I'm straight and freaking out."

Jack paused, eyes bugging out, and then slapped both hands over his face. "I'll leave now," he mumbled.

Cupcake stared at him, and then shook her head. "I think you need to talk," she said. She paused, and then added, "And not to me, I'm nine. Come on, I'll introduce you to Holly."

"Kid, you're not freaking out nearly as much as I think you should be."

"Holly's lesbian and was the one to tell me where babies come from." She patted him on the head. "Also, Bunny's cute. You could do a lot worse." Cupcake wrinkled her nose. "Jack? Why do people say that?"

"What, Bunny's cute? Rabbits tend to be very fluffy..."

"The could do worse thing."

Jack shrugged, and stood up. "Don't know. I mean, one minute everyone was talking like Shakespeare, the next it was all 'Groovy this' and free love that, and now..." He shrugged.

"You lived through the sixties?" She shoved open her bedroom door. "Were afros really a thing?"

"Unfortunately."

Cupcake's bedroom was one of two at the front of the house, Jack realized. The other bedroom was her sister's. It seemed rather small to him, for a mostly grown woman, but that probably didn't matter with her away at college most of the year.

And of course, Cupcake entered without knocking.

"I could've been skyping my girlfriend," Holly said. Sure, no introductions yet, but considering the young woman looked like an older, more curvaceous Cupcake, it was an easy assumption to make.

"Jack needs to ask you a question about something," Cupcake said. She climbed up onto the bed, a short single, pushed up against one wall.

Holly looked around the room. Jack did his best not to stare at the lime green bra hanging off the mirror. "I don't see anyone," Holly said. "And you're not supposed to chat online."

"Jack's right there." Cupcake pointed at him. Jack held very still.

"Empty doorway."

"Jack, ice over the window."

He raised his eyebrows. "No, I don't think that's a good -"

"Now!"

Okay, okay. Bossy kid. "Planning on being the first female president?" he muttered, and did as ordered.

Holly blinked at the window, and then he _saw_ her eyes refocus as she saw _him_. Considering she suddenly had a teenage male suddenly in her room, she took it well.

" _What the fucking hell_?" Holly jumped backward, knocking her chair over and tripping over it. She cracked first her elbow, then her head off the wall, hit the ground, and started scrambling backwards.

Cupcake didn't even blink. "Jack, this is my sister Holly. Holly, this is Jack. He's - how'd you put it, Jack?"

He glared at her, then turned and bowed to Holly. "Nice to meet you, miss. My name's Jack Frost, Voice of Winter and Guardian of Fun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As Jack gains his first adult believer... -cough- Yes, there's a reason to do this. And poor Bunny.


	13. Crawls like a Worm

Holly stared at him, and then licked her lips. "I thought that was just an expression," she said weakly.

Jack scowled. "Everyone says that."

"Everyone's an idiot," Cupcake added. "Jack's not an expression, any more than bats fly into people's hair or lesbianism is just you being confused and needing a boyfriend."

At that, Holly stopped looking ready to bolt - if she could only figure out how legs worked - and closer to annoyed. "Idiots," she muttered, and shoved her hair back from her face. "So. Uh. What...?" She gestured vaguely at Jack.

"I'm a spirit," he said. "People only see me if they believe in me. Otherwise, I'm invisible, intangible, inaudible..."

"People walk through him," Cupcake summed up. "And then mom gets mad when I punch them."

"That explains a lot," Holly muttered. "Help me up."

She hauled on Cupcake's arm, and managed to get back up onto her feet. She did not sit down - in fact, she remained right by the door, eyeing Jack - and she spoke to Cupcake. "You've been punching people?"

"What? They were rude. What else was I supposed to do?"

Jack leaned back on the windowsill as the siblings argued. "Did they clone you?" he asked Holly, during a short break in the conversation. He jerked his thumb at Cupcake. "She's like a mini-you."

He got the oddest look ever, like she'd actually forgotten he was there - not unlikely - and then Holly snorted. "You're kidding me, right?"

Cupcake rolled her eyes. "Anyways, Holly, could you tell Jack about being gay? He's kind of confused."

"I... know a lot about being happy," Jack said. "What... huh?"

"Are you shitting me?" Holly muttered. "Have you been living under a rock the past twenty years?"

Cupcake jumped down off the bed. "It's 'cause I'm here. Jack always acts like he doesn't know what slang is when it's got to do with sex. I'm going back to my room and reblogging unicorn pictures, okay?"

"Not the Unicron guy from Transformers."

"I only made that mistake once. Have a good talk!"

Jack stared at the bedroom door from the wrong side as it clicked shut behind Cupcake. "Uh," he said, and _Very Determinedly_ did not look at the green bra hanging off the mirror. "I can leave?"

"Why does Candi think you need to talk to me?" Holly finally sat down, and gestured Jack at the bed.

"Candi - you mean Cupcake?" He didn't move from the windowsill. "Well. Uh."

Holly raised her eyebrows, so much like Cupcake that he found himself spilling his guts on automatic. "It's Bunny. The Easter Bunny."

"The Easter Bunny is real," Holly said, and then started rubbing her forehead. "Okay, hit me."

Jack opened his mouth, and then closed it. How could he possibly tell this woman, no matter her relation to one of his believers, what was going on in his head? Bunny, his feelings for Bunny...

"Bunny was sick," he said. "Things've been... confused."

"Candi said you needed a talk about being gay." And if Holly had an expression on her face that seemed to indicate she was wondering just where her life had taken a turn for the X-Files, Jack couldn't blame her.

Jack shook his head and may or may not have iced over the windowsill, he couldn't tell. "No. I - no, that - I - no. It's fine. I'm fine. Emotions might've gotten confused, but it's okay. I'm okay."

"Really." She leaned forward. "Look, Jack -"

"I'm fine," he said, again. He turned and pulled the window open. "Really. I, uh, I'm sorry Cupcake put you on the spot like this, but I'm seriously _fine_."

He went to step out the window - and his foot went through the screen. It hurt, too. He yelped, and fell back, flailing his arms and smacking one wrist off the desk.

Wow. Now he was bleeding. Not a lot, admittedly, but that kind of hurt.

Holly sighed, and stood up. "That explains why Cupcake keeps removing the screen in her window."

* * *

The wind tore through the Warren, ripping leaves from branches and layering the rocks with frost. The early eggs stopped short, crouching down to huddle against the grass. The golems waddled in tight circles, conflicting programming making them as near to anxious as they could get.

Aster shoved himself up onto all fours, not up to striding about on his hind legs just now. Despite all of the blasted yeti's urging, nagging, and threatening, he hadn't been able to force much food down his gut. He hadn't been able to sleep. He'd been able to feel Jack's power sliding into him, and the odd dream - or something - of a howling blizzard and the winter animals assured him Jack was alive, but...

It'd been a week.

Of course he'd be worried.

He headed to the tunnel intersections. Jack would be there, and he'd explain the cold, and where he'd been, and Aster would be able to find out just why he'd stayed out for a week.

Not that he'd been _too_ worried, but... Well. Alright. He'd been worried.

Jack was standing in the entrance - or the exit, considering he was leaving it - for the North American tunnel. He looked... brutalized. There were a few unbruised patches of skin, the top of one shoulder, the side of his stomach, possibly a few other places - but most of him was turning unhealthy shades of violet and plum. One eye was swollen so Jack couldn't have looked out of it, even if it hadn't been caked shut with dried blood. His bottom lip was swollen until it was as thick as Aster's thumb, and his upper lip was shredded.

The rest of him was worse.

"Jack!" Aster ran as fast as he could, and reared up to reach for the boy's shoulders, only to stop short when he realized that'd mean touching Jack, who was obviously in pain. His breath was hissing; for a long, horrifying moment Aster thought it meant Jack had a punctured lung, but then he realized that no, Jack was just breathing through tightly clenched teeth.

"Bunny?" Jack looked up, his visible eye glittering with... something.

"Jack, where - crikey, what happened? We need to get you medical attention. You stay here, I'll get Joan -"

Jack caught him by the wrist and held tight. "It'll heal," he growled. The sound put the fur on Aster's neck on end. Ah, so that was rage in Jack's eye. Good to know. "But would you _look_ at what happened to my _clothes_!"

Aster frowned, and looked Jack over again. "They're fair ruined," he allowed, "But I don't see what that has -"

"They're _mine_!" Jack let go of Aster's wrist to limp back and forth. "They're _mine_ and those - _those_ \- how _dare_ they? They're _my_ clothes, _mine_ , and they -!"

"Jack!" He caught the boy by the shoulders, and held tight when Jack tried to pull away. The boy whimpered as the sharp action and sharper pressure aggravated his injuries, but Aster didn't let go. "Are you telling me you're fussed over your _clothes_ instead of your _skin_?"

Jack growled at him, and tried to pull away again. "Skin heals, clothes don't," he snapped.

"Oh, for - bullocks to this." Aster leaned in good and close, and glared into Jack's eyes. "Now you listen to me, you miserable little wanker. I have spent the last week fair worried about how you were, then you come in looking like this." He gave the boy a little shake. "And you're trying to brush me off about your clothing? Hah! I don't think so! Now you just limp yourself over to the medical supplies, because damned if I'm going to let you die of something preventable!"

Jack's mouth dropped open. "Bunny..."

"I get you're upset about your stuff."

"No," Jack said, scowling again. "You really don't."

" _But_ ," Aster said. "I happen to think there's more important things."

Jack's expression said, clearly enough, that he didn't agree. The blood and bruising added a particular emphasis.

"Now." Aster turned, and began leading Jack back to the little encampment, one arm across his shoulders so he couldn't bolt. And, not so incidentally, so Aster didn't fall over. "Let's get you patched up. When I'm sure you won't bleed to death, then you can fret about your wardrobe."

"It's not fretting," Jack muttered, but he limped alongside Aster. One arm actually reached around the Pooka's back to pull the two of them closer together, but that could have only been for support.

There was no reason to assume any other explanation.

Aster did not brood over the subject while he helped Jack out of the scraps that were left of his hooded sweater and leather pants. Nor as he helped Jack wash the blood from his hair and off his back. When he stitched a few deep gashes, and bandaged the rest, he was entirely focused on his task and nothing else. And when Jack finally, finally laid down and went to sleep, after an hour of increasingly disjointed wrathful comments, he didn't think of anything but making sure Jack would be comfortable while he slept.

Only then, with a kettle of water over the embers to heat for tea, did he let himself think about something other than the immediate problem.

For a moment, he marveled at his own temerity at standing up to Jack's rage, but that was specious and he knew it. He was older than the _planet_ , never mind Jack's species, and had been a warrior all for those many years. Granted, true, his _emotions_ were not quite as strong as his body - even now - and were his most vulnerable point, but this hadn't been an attack on him, directly, with weapons of words and blistering scorn.

No. At worst, there would've been a physical scuffle, and as injured as he was, Jack would've come off by far the worst.

Aster rubbed one hand over his face, and checked the water. Not quite warm enough. No, the problem with this situation was clear enough. Standing up to Jack's rage wasn't the issue. It was what he'd wanted to do about that rage.

He'd wanted to _soothe_ Jack. To curl around him and purr, stroke careful hands over all that bruised skin and hopefully ease some of the pain.

In short, he'd wanted to act like a loving, concerned mate.

Because he was, El-Ahrairah help him, in love with Jack. Who didn't, and couldn't, love him back.

"Just bloody wonderful," he muttered, and started preparing the tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title refers to the song that I was listening to - The Bird and the Worm - while writing a lot of this chapter. Unfortunately, this was a difficult chapter for me. I blame Jack. I think I need to push him just a liiiiiittle bit more before he's willing to talk to someone about sexuality...


	14. Gift of Clothes

"I don't _have_ any other clothes," Jack snapped, glowering out at the world. In this case, the world involved Bunny, Joan, and a fair swath of the Warren. "Why do you think I'm so upset? I had my pants, my sweater, and I've got my staff. That's _it_ for personal property, Bunny!"

Aster rubbed one hand over his face. "Well," he said, very carefully not looking at Jack. An entirely naked Jack, whose bruises had apparently cleared up overnight. The cuts were taking longer, but the stitches would clearly come out in a day or two, instead of the week or so Aster had expected. "Can't you sneak up to the surface and -"

"And what, steal?" Jack stabbed a finger in Aster's direction. "I've never stolen anything in my entire life!" He paused, and then added sulkily, "Discounting the time I cleared out this one drug dealer's base. That doesn't count."

"No," he said, amused. "Wait, really? Never?"

"Not from _people_!"

Apparently drug dealers weren't people. News to Aster, but he rather approved. "Well, you can hardly continue on without clothes."

" _That's what I've been trying to tell you_!"

Aster ignored the explosion; even found a bit of humor in it. Strange. When that temper wasn't directed at him, the ranting and raving seemed endearing rather than... heart-breaking.

Oh, he had it _bad_ , didn't he?

Joan grumbled under her breath, and then yammered on at Jack. Jack snarled in return, and began questioning Joan's parentage.

"Jack, mate." Aster stepped in before things could come to blows. Quite literally, in both cases. If he hadn't put himself between the two of them, he suspected Joan would have broken Jack's nose, or Jack would've iced Joan's fur. "Let me see if I can't find you something. It's past time I checked my house, anyways."

"Creepy place," Jack muttered. He turned and stalked away, his arse twitching and flexing in quite the alluring manner. Aster watched until Jack was out of sight, and then frowned at Joan.

"Don't goad him, bloody hell."

Joan snorted, and shook her head. Apparently, she was off, as at this rate he just needed to move around doing what he needed to do. Further therapy wasn't required, so long as he didn't allow himself to backslide.

He nodded, vowed he wouldn't, and promised himself a quiet little celebration when the demonic female was finally gone.

Instead of binkying about at the thought of no more physical therapy, he took himself back to his home.

Everything was just as it should be. He checked the terrariums, with the miniature ecosystems. They were thriving, but then, they always were. And apart from a bit of dust everywhere, it was like he'd never left his home.

That began to change as he went down the stairs and headed for his bedroom. For some reason it made the fur along his spine stand on end, and the muscles in his legs twitch. Aster clenched his teeth and forged on, opening the door to his bedroom and - oh.

It... reeked.

He waved the lights on, and looked around. The mattress was irrevocably stained and would have to be burned. There was a mess to one side of the bed, he couldn't tell of what, and probably didn't want to know. The stench of rotting flesh, just a touch sweet to make it even worse, must have soaked into the fabrics and hangings, so it would be easier just to burn them too. It'd mean he'd have to pull up the carpet, but there likely wasn't any point in cleaning it.

At least the wardrobes were spelled to be protected from such things. And to be bigger on the inside than the outside, though there were limits. The one to the left was for female style clothing, and to the right was for male.

He still wasn't sure why he kept collecting human clothes. Probably better than other things he could collect. Like bottle caps. Or stamps.

And more useful, in this situation. It wasn't like he had a bunch of elves running around, like North, to whip up clothes at the drop of a hat. Heck, he couldn't even sew a straight seam, so he could hardly make them himself, could he? And... he didn't want to borrow North's elves, he wanted to be able to give Jack clothes with his own two hands.

Failing making them... he'd look in his collection.

He stepped into the wardrobe, and as a bit of a defense against the stench coming from the bed, pulled the door closed behind him.

Now then, what would look good on Jack...?

* * *

Jack wrestled with his temper, utterly failed, and felt horribly guilty for losing against his own emotions. He knew better. He knew better. Last time he'd yelled at Bunny, the guy had gotten his heart broken - and he still had to explain that - and Jack had found him three months later rotting alive.

Well, he was here, and able to jump on any of that nonsense, and... He twitched, full body, as his stupid brain decided to throw up an image of just what kind of 'jumping on' he could do with Bunny.

It was getting _worse_ , not better.

He'd spent a week topside, unable to sleep, unable to stop thinking about Bunny, or about how Cupcake had introduced him to her older sister because apparently that was supposed to help, and then he'd gotten jumped by a couple cranky winter sprites who didn't like the fact that Jack was out and about.

The winter sprites were like that. It was a good thing lack of belief had thinned their numbers, because otherwise Jack never would've been able to play with children. He'd be too busy smacking down the bloodthirsty idiots instead.

He'd won. Of course he'd won. But a week without food or sleep, in summer? Yeah, okay, so he'd been a bit battered when he'd staggered back into the Warren. And Bunny was there, looking freaked out and Jack had just... wanted to wrap himself around Bunny, and feel that fur on his abused skin, and do _things_ that really, no, he shouldn't want to do.

Much easier to dwell on the destruction of his clothes.

So he was possessive. So what if it was more comfortable to wander around in the nude? Just because the pants had never fit properly - they'd been made two years before he'd turned into a spirit, and there'd been one-and-a-half growth spurts in that time - and the hoodie was somehow always itchy right at the back of the neck, but they'd been _his_.

And now they were gone. He'd tossed the remains on the fire himself, after breakfast. There wasn't any salvaging them.

Jack stopped short of whacking at tree trunks with his staff, because icing Bunny's trees wasn't a thing Good People did. Not that he felt very Good People right now. He felt... Well. He supposed this was what other Great Manitous felt like; like they were vessels, too small for the power they contained, just looking for an excuse to go explode somewhere, collateral damage be damned.

He'd honestly never felt like that before. Sure, he'd always been aware of a - a feeling, like there was a mountain forever looming over him, but he'd never had the need to just... let the power go. Let it rage.

And oooh yeah the power of winter really wanted to rage.

Jack headed back for the campsite, and poked around a bit. Bunny was gone, probably still going through his house. Joan was gone. The only things to look at were the beds, the small campfire gone thankfully cold, and the few bits and pieces that had accumulated.

And that book Phil had given him, left out on his bed like someone thought he was being incredibly slow about reading it. Probably not Bunny; he didn't think Bunny remembered he had it, if he'd ever noticed it before. So... Joan had done it. Kinda figured.

He flipped it open to the first page, and squinted at the tiny writing. After a couple minutes - and a bit of flipping to other pages to be sure - he identified the language as "probably Latin", and mentally apologized for ever complaining about Father Benjamin insisting he learn Latin as well as English.

He did not feel sorry for muttering about Bunny's poor handwriting, though.

Was that word anatis or febre? After a minute, he decided it had to be febre, if only because 'fever' made sense in a medical book and 'duck' did not.

The handwriting didn't get any better. Jack settled in for a nice, long session of reading something so bad he'd have to be cranky about it.

* * *

Aster found Jack at their little campsite, which was much more endearing after having seen the state of his bedroom.

He promptly shifted the bundle of clothes to block his front, because he wasn't wearing pants and Jack was... Well. Ah. Jack was naked. And reading a book. He was sprawled out on his front, kicking his legs idly, back and forth... making the muscles in his thighs and rear flex, in a way that was extremely interesting to Aster. The rest of Jack was extremely nice looking as well, equally appealing to both the artist and the deeply buried romantic.

"Hey, Frostbite?"

"Hm?" Jack looked up. At least he didn't look quite so frustrated. "Your handwriting sucks."

"What're you reading?"

Jack shoved the small book under his blankets. "Never mind. What's up, Bunny?"

"I, ah, I found some clothes that might fit you," he said, and nodded to the bundle. A quick check down proved that the minute imposing self-control on himself had worked. He was no longer showing physical interest.

The winter spirit tested his control, sitting up properly and crossing his legs. Jack was... well. Jack was apparently oblivious both to the effect his nudity was having on Aster, and to the way the light gleamed off his skin, highlighting the curve of his shoulder here, the line of his torso there, the arch of his hipbones that led down to... No. Bad Pooka, no ogling.

Besides, he had a picture perfect memory, anyways.

"Why would you have clothing sized for me?" he asked, and eyed the bundle.

"Hobby," Aster said, and held out the clothes. "Take a look?"

"Sure," Jack said, looking as though he was only humoring Aster. "But no, seriously, why?"

He shrugged, and crouched down. Much more comfortable than sitting, and less likely to show anything awkward by accident. "Don't know. I just have a couple closets worth of human-style clothing."

"You're weird."

Jack stood up, and dropped everything but the pants. They were made out of a heavy linen, dyed a dark blue to match the lighter tunic. There was a bit of embroidery to the trousers, mostly along the outside seams, in a pattern that echoed Jack's frost patterns, the kind that looked like stylized leaves and branches. Jack held the trousers up to himself, eyebrows going up. Looked like they'd fit, maybe a bit looser than his previous pair of pants, but they weren't overlong and it didn't look like the waist would be too big.

"There's a belt, too," Aster pointed out.

Jack nodded, and pulled on the pants. Aster's mouth went dry. Jack naked had been... but Jack wearing pants and nothing else was just... He just...

Aster shoved the want down, hard. No pinning Jack to the grass and covering his neck and chest with little, nipping kisses. No rutting against Jack, hard and fast until he came all over Jack's front and Jack came in his new pants. No tearing said pants off Jack so he could lick the winter spirit clean.

Just. No. Jack would _kill_ him if he tried.

The pants didn't have any belt loops, but Jack seemed to expect that, and knew exactly how to wrap the belt - leather base with small, polished brass plates that'd been cut and etched to echo the embroidery - around his hips to keep the pants up.

"Well, the pants are alright," Jack decreed. He picked up the tunic, which was the same shade of blue, covered in a lot more silver and gold embroidery and the cuffs, hem, and collar. "Isn't this a little... big?"

"It's supposed to hang down to mid-thigh. Front and back's got the slits, see? Won't interfere with your legs none," Aster pointed out.

The hem was only bordered in a strip of silver, that followed the front and back slits up to a point, then back down. The sleeves were embroidered in the stylized leaf-and-branch - or frost - patterns up to the elbow, in silver and gold thread. The collar was embroidered in the same patterns, but the embroidery went from the collar proper, across the shoulders, and down the chest in a point to the stomach, until the fabric was just a little stiff with it.

Only a little, though, because it'd been done by an expert. Aster only noticed the stiffness because he'd been looking for it.

Jack eyed the tunic dubiously, and then pulled it on. It promptly frosted over, but only where the embroidery already was, making it glitter in a way the metallic threads hadn't.

"Not... bad," Jack said, flexing his arms in and out, and then twisting and bending. "Just let me..." He pulled the belt off, hitched the pants up a touch, and put the belt back on, over the top of the tunic this time. "There. That's better."

It really was. Aster's fingers twitched, and he clasped his hands behind his back. Jack noticed, and raised his eyebrows.

"You look good enough to paint," he said, which was true enough.

"Like an elfin prince?"

Oh yes. The kind that needed debauched, badly. "Yeah," Aster said, and cleared his throat. "There's a cloak, but it might be too long..."

"And archery bracers, a knife, and boots, too," Jack said. At least he sounded amused. "The boots aren't an option."

"Why not?" Not that Aster minded the bare feet or anything. He'd apparently discovered a mild little kink for those pale toes, wriggling in the grass.

Jack flexed his feet, making Aster's eyes widen. "Footwear is not flexible enough," he said. "I _use_ my feet - I can pick up my staff with a foot, or just about anything else when it comes to it. I perch on things. Wearing stuff, even those toe socks, interferes with it."

Aster nodded, and cleared his throat so he could talk properly again. "Fair enough. Thought I'd include them, just in case."

"I appreciate the thought," Jack said, sounding as if he actually did. He picked up the cloak, which had a thin line of silver embroidery around the edges. Unlike the tunic and trousers, it was neither flax nor linen, but instead a soft wool in the same shade of blue. The inside of the cloak had a silver, satin lining. The two clasps had the same stylized pattern as every other bit of the outfit did.

Jack's eyes gleamed with a sudden avarice, and he swung it on. It took only a little bit of doing before he had it set up to his preference, with a deep hood that he could pull up to shadow his face. The cloak was long enough on Jack to brush the ground, but only just.

He twirled in a circle, and laughed when the cloak flared and swirled around him. "Okay," he said, I'm sold. Should I try on the bracers too?"

"What about the knife?" Aster walked over, still on all fours, and picked up one of the bracers. "Might be too big..."

Jack held out one arm. "I don't need a knife. I don't want a knife. Besides, it might give the kids the wrong idea."

The bracer was too large for Jack's arm, which didn't seem to bother him any. "These clothes are actually really great," he said. "I can keep them?"

"They'll do nothing in my wardrobe but gather dust, otherwise," Aster pointed out. "Yeah. They're yours."

Jack pulled the hood back, and stared at him. "Thank you," he said, and then caught the Pooka up in a tight hug before he quite knew what was happening.

Aster closed his eyes, and hugged Jack back. If he pretended hard enough... But that would only make things worse, so he refused to pretend.

Having Jack's good regard again was more than enough. Really.

He just had to believe that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I don't know why Bunny collects clothes he can't wear, either. However, if you want an idea of what Jack's outfit now looks like - http://armstreet.com/store/medieval-clothing/medieval-fantasy-lined-cloak-knight-of-the-west  
> Apart from the boots, It's quite close.


	15. More, Give me More, Give me More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit- I did a quick re-write of... four paragraphs, because in retrospect Jack molesting Bunny in his sleep is non-con, as no consent has been given. Ergo, for those who don't care to re-read the entire chapter, the molestation was entirely in dreams. Jack still feels pretty horrible about it, but that's as much because of having to do his laundry every morning as because he's dreaming sex-dreams about his now-best friend.

He woke from dream to reality with barely any notice. His partner was a warm and willing weight in his arms, pressed back to his front so he could caress the other male's flat stomach with careful hands. His gentle touches drew a quiet murmur from his partner, and he smiled faintly, eyes gently closed.

He pressed his hips tighter to his partner's rump, and it felt like very real waves were hitting him, each crashing impact bringing pleasure in its wake. It felt so good, he began to rock back and forth, just enough to feel sparks from the friction against cloth and muscle. His partner murmured again, and shifted, but didn't wake.

Jack groaned, and nuzzled the back of Bunny's neck, his shoulder. Fragments of the dream drifted through his mind, buoyed by the stronger sensations of reality. He stroked one hand lower along Bunny's stomach, the short fur soft and warm against his palm. Even as his pinky finger bumped against Bunny's own erection, he pressed open-mouthed kisses to Bunny's shoulder.

The overgrown rabbit sighed, and shifted further onto his side, further back against Jack. It changed the angle of - everything - and Jack groaned in reply. The tight buds of his nipples shifted against the fabric of his new shirt, and Bunny's weight pressed into them. Nipples were erotic parts of the male body, who knew? He hadn't. It felt almost as good as the way Jack's cock sliding against Bunny's rear did.

He sighed, and moved his hand from Bunny's stomach, to just a bit lower, until he was stroking warm, slick skin that made his rabbit-mate shiver and moan in sleep. He hummed, and continued to rock his hips forward, thrusting as he stroked his hand down, pulling back as he moved his fingers up.

It felt like forever and it felt like no time at all, before the pleasure began to build higher than he could tolerate, and it felt like every nerve was afire with a storm's worth of electricity. He groaned, spine bowing back as everything focused together into a single point, and then exploded.

Jack sighed, and finally opened his eyes. He felt utterly relaxed, calmer than he could ever remember being before. For the first time, he didn't have winter's power looming over him, filling him until it felt like his skin would split and he'd fly apart in a million pieces. He felt... Well. He felt like Jackson Overland, as much as that was possible.

He nuzzled the back of Bunny's neck, and stroked his fingers against the soft fur on the rabbit's stomach. Which... was not where he remembered having his hand last.

Feeling vaguely curious, he lifted his head and looked over Bunny's shoulder, down his body, and blinked. Well. The front of his new pants clung to his groin and tops of his thighs. So obviously that part had happened. But physical evidence - in this case, Bunny's still erect penis, and the lack of wet fur - said that it'd all been a dream.

Jack made himself lie back down and stop staring at Bunny's penis.

He sighed again, and then sat bolt upright as he finally woke the rest of the way.

Bunny grumbled a bit at the sudden loss of back support, but didn't wake up.

Jack stared down at his traitorous hand, then at the rabbit, and then down to his own groin.

"Well," he said. "Fuck."

Bunny snored a little in reply.

* * *

After the third time waking up in the wrong bed, and having to wash his pants clean from his... he didn't know the right word for 'quasi-sleep-induced molestation only not really because that was just a wet dream'... Jack had had enough.

He'd left the Warren - and when that didn't feel like enough, left the continent of Australia and flew overseas to America. Slowly. Going with the world's rotation instead of against it, just to draw the trip out a bit more.

The problem was - and oh, was there a problem, there was a _list_ of problems as long as his arm but the one on _top_ was - he didn't have anyone to ask about... anything.

Out of all the Guardians, he'd maybe be willing to talk to Sandy. About something other than how he kept having sex dreams. (And Jack might be willing to talk to Sandy about how deep a sleeper Bunny was, but that'd just lead to conversations that he didn't actually want to have with the dreamweaver.) He was still irked at Sandy, over the marriage and how Sandy hadn't checked up on Bunny, but it wasn't the former star's fault he saw everything through the lens of dream logic. Or anti-logic. Or insanity.

There was Tooth, who'd given him the emergency access to the Warren, but again - the argument that set everything off, and then she hadn't checked on Bunny even after Jack had gotten the emergency access from her. She didn't even have the excuse Sandy did, of dream logic.

Maybe Baby Tooth, but that felt a bit like talking to a younger sister or cousin or something. Usually that wasn't a problem, but usually Jack didn't want to talk about... awkward subjects.

North quite simply wasn't an option. Even when he wasn't being annoying, he still wasn't the sort of person Jack wanted to have deep and meaningful conversations with. The old Russian just didn't understand the meaning of personal space, and couldn't help but loom and be kind of intimidating.

As for other spirits... Jack actually paused mid-air just to laugh until his stomach hurt. Yeah. No.

So, with his options boiled down to 'suffer alone' - no - or, god forbid, 'talk to Bunny' - fuck no - Jack decided to go with a third option.

He didn't know what that third option would be, but that was why he was wandering around Suburbia land in Burgess, waiting for inspiration to hit and also to stay awake so he didn't have any awkward dreams out in public.

Inspiration tapped him quietly on the shoulder when he noticed Cupcake's home. Cupcake's window was dark, but the window next - presumably her sister's - was still lit.

Jack chewed on his bottom lip, and then sighed. There wasn't anyone else he could talk to. And he had no idea what was going on in his own mind. Maybe, just maybe, talking to an adult who could see him - and wasn't North, Sandy, or Tooth - could help.

At the very least, Holly might be able to tell him where to start looking for answers.

Jack flew down, and hovered just outside the window. The curtains, which didn't look half as substantial as the ones he'd grown up used to - he'd actually grown up with shutters - had been half-pulled across the window.

He knocked twice, and then began to think second- and third-thoughts. He was about to fly away when Holly pushed the curtains open, frowned at him, and then opened the window.

The screen was still missing.

"I was kind of hoping you were a female Romeo throwing pebbles at my window," Holly said. "Come in."

"Female Romeo?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, I like girls, is that _really_ a problem?"

Jack hesitated, halfway through the window and contemplating how quick he could get back out. "No," he said, speaking carefully. Holly was the same height he was, and probably outweighed him by fifty pounds. Maybe forty, now that he was at a healthy-but-still-scrawny weight. Holly, however, looked like a forties pinup girl, with curves everywhere there were supposed to be curves.

"Then what was with that judgmental tone?" she asked, waving him the rest of the way in.

Jack shrugged, and sat down on the floor. "I don't like the play," he said. "Romeo is an... He flits from one girl to a new girl, and all the sources I've found say that Juliet was fourteen in the play. I don't care what century something's written in, fourteen is too damn young. Then, he's too scatterbrained to read a note, so when she - doing all the work, I might add - fakes her death, he becomes too 'grief stricken' -" This time he did air quotes, "- and kills himself. And since I'm pretty sure Juliet's whole reason for going along with the marriage to Romeo was to get out of the marriage to the old guy her father was talking to, she kills herself."

Holly blinked at him, and sat down on her chair. "I think you've over thought that."

Jack shrugged. "Listen to all the songs and stuff that compares everything romantic to the play. Also, I saw it back in... Eighteen-forty-five," he said. "With Susan and Charlotte Cushman. They were sisters. And kind of played Romeo and Juliet."

"Except for the sisters part, I approve of that casting choice," Holly joked.

Jack grinned. "Yeah, well, knowing they were sisters killed it for me. Also, I stand firm in my belief that Romeo had been dropped on his head as a baby. That guy couldn't have been stupider if he'd tried."

She leaned back in her chair. "You didn't come here to talk about Shakespeare, though." Jack nodded, and hunched his shoulders. "Okay. Do you want to spend a half-hour circling the proverbial bush before spilling all, or can we skip to the part where you talk and I get to bed on time, 'cause I've got work in the morning."

"You're very direct." Jack took a deep breath. "I. Uh. Well. Bunny."

"Right. The Easter Bunny."

He nodded. "Yeah. I've been... Uh. I mean." He rubbed his hands over his face. "There've been dreams?"

"Of Bunny?" Holly asked, and propped her feet up on the bed. Jack admired both her balance - it tilted her chair up onto the back two legs - and wondered at how comfortable she was in a room where she was probably taller than it was wide.

"I sure hope it's Bunny!" He clapped both hands over his mouth, cringing. Though, it was true. If those dreams were of someone else with soft gray fur and bright green eyes and... now wasn't the time, Jack.

She looked sympathetic and amused all at once. "Alright. Why don't you start from the top?"

He sighed, and nodded. Five minutes of spewing words out later - everything from how he knew guys weren't arrested or killed for liking their own gender anymore, and how he didn't think it was fair women hadn't faced the same troubles - to how he'd always liked women, because he was fairly certain he would have noticed if he didn't - to how he'd woken up having migrated from his bed to Bunny's three nights in a row. He mentioned the dreams. He did not mention how he'd had to wash his pants three mornings in a row.

Holly raised her eyebrows at him. Jack blushed. She looked like she knew what he hadn't mentioned.

"Do you have any idea that you've only referred to the Easter Bunny as 'yours' and not by name?"

"Huh?"

"You said 'and then I woke up next to mine, again,' and I'm pretty sure his name isn't 'mine'."

No, no it wasn't. Jack thought back over his babble-fit and cringed again. Oh. He hadn't. "I might... have a few..."

"Issues?" Holly suggested.

"That's a milder word than I would've used."

He'd referred to Bunny as... as his, as 'mine', as... Jack buried his face in his knees and groaned. "Why can't the ground ever swallow you up when you want it to?"

"Because we're on the second floor." Holly leaned forward, performing an awkward-looking contortion to try and look him in the face. "Jack, that's not a bad thing, just don't go crazy with it. Going crazy with it, in this case, means wanting an accounting of every second of his day."

He peeked at her over his knees. "Why would I want that?"

"Dunno, honestly, the jealous boyfriend-girlfriend thing never really made sense to me."

She leaned back, and sighed. "Okay. Do you want me to take a turn talking now?"

He nodded. She smiled. "Good. Okay. You tell me you've always admired the female form before - did you ever want to have sex with any of those women?"

He thought about it. "To be honest," he admitted. "I just wanted to be with them. Sex... wasn't really..." And that was weird, wasn't it? Guys were _supposed_ to want to have sex with women they found attractive. Everything he'd heard said so. Everything he'd seen only backed it up.

Holly nodded, though, as if that made sense. "Do you know about the different sexualities? Or sexual outlooks, I'm not a sociologist or psychologist or profiler, I don't know." He shook his head again. "Right then, I'll use my favorite comparison, I found it online and forgot to reblog, damn the luck."

Was that supposed to make sense? Because it didn't.

"So," Holly said. "Sexual preference is like... donuts. Okay? A straight person with a 'normal', note the air quotes, sex-drive will eat an opposite-gendered donut when they get hungry. A gay person with a 'normal', air quotes again, sex-drive, will eat a same-gendered donut when they get hungry."

Jack raised one hand. "I think your explanation is leaving me more confused than I was before I knocked on your window."

She flipped him off. "Then there's asexual people, who don't hate donuts or love them or feel any real desire to eat a donut, because they're just never hungry for donuts. They don't see anything wrong with donuts but they'd really prefer a nice cuddle instead. Then there's the people who want to have every donut, ever. And then there's the demi-sexual people who, y'know, the donuts are okay, but really, they'd prefer to only have their favorite donut, the very special donut that they really, really like."

"Is there a point to this?"

"Sex being donuts," Holly said, "demi-sexual people only want to have sex with someone they already have an emotional attachment to. 'Normal' people, air quotes _yet again_ , are able to put a disconnect between sex and emotional attachment, at least according to the media. Demi-sexual people don't or can't or are just, y'know, sane." Holly shrugged again. "But then again, I'm a demi-sexual lesbian, what do I know?"

Jack looked confused, and his head was starting to hurt. "Okay, but what does that have to do with anything about how I've been dreaming about Bunny?"

"I think you might be demi-sexual," Holly said. "Since, y'know, emotional attachment pre-sex. Did you really have an emotional attachment to those girls you admired?"

"I could've developed one," Jack said. It would've been unhealthy on multiple levels, what with their never seeing him and a decided lack of interaction, but he could have.

"But?"

"Okay. No."

Holly nodded. "But now you've got a massive emotional attachment to," she sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose, "Bunny. And, just because you've always preferred admiring the female form to the male - good choice, by the way, the female figure has so much more to recommend about it than the male, not least of which being a lack of dingle - that doesn't mean you're straight."

"But -" Jack began, not sure what exactly he was going to say. Protest that yes, of course he was straight? Defend his gender and the male dingle? Express his utter confusion?

"I think you're bi, leaning heavily towards straight, but that doesn't preclude the fact that it's entirely possible for you to feel affection, attraction, and lust for another male." Holly stopped pinching her nose, and smiled at him. "This isn't a bad thing, Jack. It just means that, for you, love is prelude to lust. And in this case, you seem to have fallen in love with the Easter Bunny."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit - The former end note no longer applies, mostly. Why yes, Bunny IS a deep sleeper, how'd you guess? And Jack has now admitted he has a problem.


	16. Tell me True

Aster added a bit of shading to the sketch, and hummed appreciatively at how nicely defined it made the lines of the rose. It might have been only in pencil, but he imagined he could almost see the color, all the same. Of course, he could always glance up and look at the flower in question, but that wasn't the point, was it?

Sketching was a good distraction from Jack's absence. It'd been three days. He hadn't slept well, dreaming of storms that wept in confusion and snow cats that piled on him until he couldn't breathe and was in danger of overheating, and broke-winged snowbirds that eyed him sidelong in a thoughtful and highly worrying manner. He'd woken up, every time, half out of his bed and clutching Jack's pillow, half-suffocated from how he'd smashed his face into the soft fabric.

It smelt like Jack.

So yes, he was sketching, and had been for the past three days, in between catching up on his gardening - probably an impossible task at this point, but one he actually enjoyed - and the occasional foray into his home. He'd already stripped his bed of sheets and hangings, and burned them in the special pit set aside for just such a disposal manner.

Jack was gone, and dreams aside, he felt... fine. Normal, if it was normal to feel like he was missing a part of himself, a part that flew and laughed and had the most enticing blue eyes he'd ever seen. If they severed the marriage bond - and surely Jack was getting restless and looking forward to it, why else would he go away for days at a time? - Aster figured he'd actually survive.

It seemed a Pooka could get over a broken heart, if only just.

Aster had to put his pencil down, so as to free both hands. He pressed his palms to his chest, just above his heart, and closed his eyes. The idea of severing his bond to Jack hurt. But it wasn't good for Jack, and he didn't need to take from the winter spirit's energy anymore.

He loved Jack. And love was not selfish. So he wouldn't be, either. He would let Jack go, just as soon as he figured out how to say the words without breaking down and begging the Frostbite not to leave.

Besides, he thought, a bitter smile twisting his lips. He had his pride. Jack didn't want him, and Aster wasn't about to beg for scraps.

If he wanted to dream of the impossible, it would be for Jack to return his affections. He would not settle for anything less in a relationship; a real relationship, one built on a foundation of friendship, mutual attraction, converging interests, and similar life goals.

He thought that they had a friendship, now. He understood Jack better, at least. But mutual attraction? Aster couldn't help but chuckle quietly at the thought. All one-sided there. As for interests and goals... he didn't know. Maybe a few? A relationship could be built on the goal of 'protecting the children', but only just. Look at him and the other Guardians. They were friends, sure, but it'd started with that one, central goal. Shared experiences and a lot of time together while in danger had done the rest.

He and Jack didn't have those centuries together, though. They had misunderstandings and arguments and harsh words. They had one go-round of saving the world, or at least the children, together. They had the past few months of living together, and in Aster's case, stepping lightly and feeling his way.

It usually took longer, more, for a spirit to fall in love.

Figured that it only took him a few months.

Aster set his sketchbook aside. He no longer had the interest for art, at least for the moment. There was always more weeding to do, more trimming. A bit of physical work would do him good. Settle his mind.

He'd started to reclaim his egg-fields, since those were the most important to his existence. The Easter Bunny had to get the eggs out on time, he mused, not for the first time. Or the house of cards that was his life would tumble down, fly apart, and he'd ruin all of Jack's hard work for the past...

Almost seven months now, he realized. Possibly eight. It'd been a while.

It felt like forever. It felt like no time at all.

Aster flattened his ears down the back of his head, and got to work with his weeding.

He'd been at it for an hour or so, long enough his shoulders and arms were starting to ache, in a pleasant way, from the work, when a chill gust of wind made the grass bow and sway. Aster lifted his head, ears going up and twitching a bit. The wind wasn't as cold as he kept expecting it to be, what with hanging around Jack all the time. It said something about his priorities that he was only just starting to wonder about that.

He dusted off his hands and started towards the tunnel entrances. "Jack," he called, once he was close enough. Then he had to just stop, and admire the picture that the winter spirit made.

Jack had always looked scruffy, before. A homeless teenager delighted with his state of being, feckless and reckless and a right pain in the arse. It'd been the sweater, Aster decided. The oversized, baggy, ragged sweater that'd been worn to threads at the cuffs and hem. The pants had been just as bad, the leather nearly worn through at the knees, the seams beginning to unravel to the point that Jack had kept his calves wrapped in twine just so it didn't get any worse.

That Jack could only be irresponsible. Thoughtless. As shallow as a puddle of spit, incapable of any greater depth. That Jack had shown glimpses of another self, but there were too many layers between him and the rest of the world for it to show very long. A glint in his eye, the twist of his lips, twitching fingers and a sarcastic comment. It'd been those glimpses that had caught Aster's heart, he realized. Not the laughing hellion, though that was part of Jack and he was fond of that side, but that was all it was. A side. Not the entire personality.

The new clothes changed things. Losing his old ones had stripped Jack of his shields, his armor, left him bare in as many different ways as the word had meaning. The clothes Aster had given him were new, clean, and while they hadn't been tailored to fit, they looked like they had been. He didn't look scruffy anymore; even the flyaway hairstyle, the inevitable result of flying everywhere, looked like a purposeful style instead of not caring.

The clothes had changed Jack's way of walking, too, Aster realized. The boy - the young man - had skipped or slunk. This Jack, this young man well on his way to being a polished and refined version of himself, stalked like the snow cats Aster dreamed about. His gaze was focused, intent, hawk sharp and taking in everything. Power hummed around him, as though barely contained by his skin, but he'd stopped twitching with it.

Jack's gaze met Aster's, and everything seemed to pause for a moment. Aster's heart tried to skip a beat.

Then Jack smiled, a delightful curve of his lips that, no matter how Aster tried to mentally steer away from the description, could only be termed as 'wicked'. He began to walk forward, with a predatory little roll of his hips.

"Hey, Cottontail," he said, and Aster just barely kept from twitching. There were worlds of subtext to those two words, and he had no idea how to decipher even the first layer.

"Jack," he said, and cleared his throat. The winter spirit came to arm's length, and then began to circle him. Aster did twitch at that, but didn't turn in time with Jack. "What're you on about, Iceblock?"

"You're looking mighty _fit_ now, aren't you, Bunny?" he asked, finally coming around to Aster's front and grinning. It was a friendly expression. Bright. Cheerful. A touch too many teeth for Aster's comfort, but humans were like that.

So why did that grin make him want to bolt for cover?

"Clean bill of health," he said, slowly. "Where've you been?"

"Oh." Jack waved one hand, as though brushing the question off. "Out. It's been a few months now, y'know. Since..." He scowled, and glared up at the ceiling. "What'd you really tell North, anyways?"

Oh. Did they have to talk about this? "I just wanted a chance to... see if there'd be anything," he said. He was fairly certain he'd already told Jack that, but best to repeat it. "I went to the others because... because that's what you do. Otherwise you get woken up in the middle of the night with a bag over your head and a sword poking you in your back and people asking you how you want to be chopped up and thrown in the river."

Jack lost his vaguely intimidating air, if only because he recoiled several steps and looked horrified. "They do that? What the _hell_? They -" He gestured towards the ceiling, and then clutched his staff to his chest like a teddy bear.

"What? No! No, that was other Pooka."

"Other - how the hell did you people ever survive to..." Jack stopped clutching his staff, at least.

Aster coughed, and rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah, well, that's why you'd first go to the parents, or eldest relative if they weren't available... Make sure your interest in their sprog was welcome, yeah? And if it wasn't, you had to get out of there fast..."

"What, no one trusted their kids to make their own decisions?" Jack started towards their campsite, staff yoked over his shoulders.

"It was a responsibility thing," he said in reply. "And, y'know, cultural. Actually had someone try to court me without going to my parents first." He twisted his lips to one side in an approximation of a wry smile.

Jack twitched at that. "And?"

"Castrated the bleeding arsehole. What'd he think I was, easy?"

Jack tripped over an irregularity in the ground. Or perhaps just over surprise. "Y'know what, I'm not even going to touch that."

"Well, it's not like going to the parents meant it was a done deal," Aster said. "It was permission to court. Y'could always be rejected."

Jack nodded, and started doing some odd thing with his staff. He dropped it flat on the ground, somehow lifted one end up with his foot, walked forward until the staff was upright and braced against his shoulder, and then kept going forward so it tipped and began to fall, at which point he caught it and started the whatever-it-was all over again.

He made it look entirely too graceful, in Aster's opinion.

"Did you?" Jack asked. "Ever court someone?"

"Plenty of times."

Jack glanced over at him. "Never got your heart broken, though."

He didn't answer for a minute. "Never cared enough."

Jack didn't answer, at least not verbally. But much to Aster's surprise, he felt a slightly chill hand wrap around his. Jack held tight, even when Aster automatically twitched and tried to pull free.

Then he relaxed, and enjoyed the feeling. It wasn't as though it meant Jack felt anything beyond friendship.

And it was nice, feeling Jack's faint chill against his pads.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, someone FINALLY explains to Jack just what set off the entire story. Yay!
> 
> Also, last chapter was edited. It was pointed out that Jack molesting Bunny in his sleep was full out non-con, and that just... doesn't sit well, so the molestation became a dream. Bunny, sadly, did not get his rocks off.


	17. Calm Before the Storm

"Where'd you get the skillet?" Jack asked, even as he gave the pan a little toss to shuffle the frying vegetable bits. In all the cooking shows and professional restaurants, the vegetables would fly up into the air and land neatly in the pan. When Jack did it, the vegetables gave an anemic little shift-flop. And he was pretty sure they were starting to burn.

"Here, I'll take that." Aster nudged Jack to the side. When _he_ did the pan-flip, the vegetables did what they were _supposed_ to. "And from my house, ice-brain."

Jack scowled, and moved over to the rough cutting board. He took over slicing up the... fish? Fish. Red fish. Salmon, yum. "You went into creepy-place?"

"Right, so m' bedroom's a dead loss, but the rest of the house is just fine."

He tossed in a handful of sliced salmon. "Fish stirfry?"

"Hush, I can't eat too many meats. Chicken and beef are off the menu, and we don't have lobster."

"Sea bugs," Jack declared.

Bunny turned and gave him an odd look. It was similar to the old - and of late, unseen - look that said " _why are you here driving me crazy and what do I need to do to make you shut up_ ", but this one was fonder than that. "That's why we don't have lobster. You realize 'setting them free' into the paint river was pointless, right?"

Jack did his best to look innocent. It probably would've been easier if he hadn't been flipping the knife around in his hand like a circus knife thrower or something. "It means we didn't have to eat them."

Bunny sighed, and shook his head, but he was smiling. Jack beamed in response. "They were already dead, Jack. And the paint's edible."

Jack stopped smiling. "We are not eating lobster. I draw the line at insects."

"They're not bugs, ya yobo." Bunny tapped him on the nose with the spoon. Jack threw another handful of fish shreds into the skillet. The cooking food was starting to smell _amazing_.

"They look like bugs," he muttered. And eyed Bunny meaningfully. "It could all be a trick, you know. Lull us into a sense of false complacency. Then - wham! Take over the governments, take over the newspapers, take over the bus routes..."

Bunny had to put the spoon down, he was laughing so hard. "The bus routes?" he asked.

"They're pretty important."

Bunny tapped him on the nose again, and went back to making sure the food didn't burn. Jack added the last handful of salmon, and began cleaning up from the slicing and dicing they'd been doing. He hummed under his breath as he did, feeling happy enough he had to actively resist flying.

Step one of his evil, no-good plot to see where actual physicality with Bunny went, was so far a success. Bunny had laughed more in the last couple of hours than he'd done, in Jack's presence at least, over their entire previous relationship.

Jack... wasn't sure, quite, about the whole sexuality thing. On the other hand, the pamphlets he'd borrowed-maybe-technically-stolen from countless therapists' offices and guidance counselors' waiting rooms had been... soothing. Even interesting.

And then Jack had hit the internet. And. Well. Okay then.

It wasn't like using library computers to surf the internet for porn was _new_ or anything; he'd pretty much been doing that since the arrival of internet in libraries. But it was the first time he'd purposefully searched out same-sex porn, never mind _guy_ same-sex porn.

He'd come to the conclusion that a) he preferred Bunny's fur to oiled-up skin, b) fantasizing about Bunny was more interesting than what was on the screen, and c) maybe Holly was right that he was demi-sexual.

He'd checked out the male-female porn, just to be sure, and had been a bit more interested, but no more than normal.

So, yeah, the evidence was weighing heavily in the demi-sexual category.

Jack eyed Bunny sidelong, and bit his bottom lip. The online porn had been kind of boring, it was true, but watching Bunny slide salmon stir fry onto the two plates was... a lot more interesting. And not even sexual.

Well. He narrowed his eyes, watching as Bunny's shoulders flexed when he turned around to put the plates on the blanket. Maybe a little bit sexual. That shoulder-to-waist ratio was near perfection, after all.

He moved to sit down across from Bunny, and smiled. "This was a good idea."

"If you're going to try selling me on some hair-brained plot," Bunny said, eyeing him narrowly, "I might as well eat good food while you do."

Jack picked up his fork, and considered the tines. "You should be happy I'm up to my old tricks," he pointed out.

"Oh, I am, but is any of the trouble you stir up going to land on me?"

"Considering that I'm hoping you'll help with the stirring... I don't know how to carry the metaphor further," he admitted. And took a bite of stir fry. "Oh my _god_ , this is - we've got more?"

Bunny smiled at him. "I can always make more."

"Good," Jack told him, and focused on eating for a few minutes. Because the food was _amazing_. Jack had proven his basic cooking skills, but clearly Bunny actually cared about making his meals taste as good as they were healthy. Jack was pretty sure taste buds couldn't do a happy dance, but his were sure trying.

He slowed down when he had only half a plate of _really good food_ left. Bunny, who had eaten at a saner pace, still had most of his meal left to go. Jack considered just stealing Bunny's food, but decided against it. His mother had tried to raise him with good manners, after all, even if three centuries living mostly-wild had driven them mostly out of him.

Bunny stabbed a piece of fried salmon with his fork, and chewed it with unnecessary gusto. Jack smirked at him.

"Alright. What's your plot?" Bunny asked. "And make it good."

Jack spread his hands, and almost dropped his fork. " _Vengeance_."

"Entirely dramatic, but on who?"

"Who else?" Jack scowled down at his plate, and stabbed a few vegetables. "North, Sandy, and Tooth. North the most, because he set it off. Also, I figured you'd want to get on board because you spent three months dying, and then... has it been four months? Five?"

"Can't have been that long, it's not snowing up north," Bunny said. Jack smiled and didn't say anything about the three feet that had made the last week of school a complete bust.

"Anyways, no visit. What gives?"

Bunny sighed, and looked up at the far-off cave ceiling. "It's funny how you think we're all living in each other's pockets," he said. "Since you joined, I've seen the others more times than I'd seen them all through the previous five centuries."

Really?

"Not the point," he decided. "The point is, their overreaction led to my freak out which led to you almost dying, so it's their fault."

Bunny ate a piece of cauliflower in thoughtful silence. "I could probably argue with that logic," he finally said, "But I don't really want to."

"I always knew you were smart."

At that, the rabbit eyed him skeptically, but Jack just smiled and ate a green bean or snow pea or something in that general plant family. Tasted good, whatever it was.

"I assume you have a plan," Aster said.

"More or less. I mean, I know what I want to do, so far as inciting emotion..." Jack pointed at Bunny with his fork. "But figuring out how to achieve that, I'm not so sure."

Bunny hummed thoughtfully, and shrugged. "No harm in talking with you over it, I guess."

It was totally mature and reasonable to do a fist-pump, Jack decided. "Thanks, Bunny." He leaned forward and clapped the rabbit on the shoulder, letting his hand stay there for several long moments. Bunny froze, near about dropping his fork.

Well, that was a good sign, wasn't it? And Bunny's shoulder was nicely muscular and warm to the touch, his fur soft against Jack's palm and fingers. And, Jack thought, sitting back, when he'd cut contact, his hand had tingled. That was a good thing, according to everything he'd read.

Maybe, just maybe, it was true and he and Bunny could get together.

And maybe, Jack thought, rubbing his tingling fingers together, he wasn't as straight as he'd always figured.

* * *

Jack seemed utterly unaware of the effect he'd had on the Pooka, and Aster was reasonably certain he wanted it to stay that way. It wasn't just for his pride, but to keep things from getting awkward between them. Jack's return from his latest jaunt out seemed to have settled things between them, and now the winter spirit was acting like he'd used to, maybe without the wary edge Aster had only noticed by its absence.

He _liked_ this Jack, who talked easily about everything from fractal patterns, to the weather - a somewhat different kind of conversation than everyone else seemed to have, because Jack got gleeful about storms and gleeful about the science behind why the clouds in Australia were utterly borked, and just gleeful in general - to books, plays, movies... and he liked to laugh. At Aster's ignorance about said books, plays, and movies, to things Aster had said that he was reasonably certain weren't actually funny but... it was nice that Jack thought they were.

This Jack was bright and animated and smiled all the damn time, looking more like the bloke who dove into snowball fights that took over city parks and thought rollercoasters would've been better if they were sleds hurtling down an ice track, then the somewhat wary Jack that never seemed quite sure what to do with his hands, or the rest of his self, during Guardian meetings. This Jack was confident and sure of himself, while the other Jack looked like a lost and lonely boy.

They were both real, Aster knew, but they brought out different urges. He wanted to wrap that lonely boy up in his arms and make promises about never letting him be alone again. Well, now he did. Before, he hadn't wanted to see the lonely boy, so he'd just gotten angry.

As for what he wanted to do about confident, bright and happy Jack... there was hugging in there, to be sure, but much of what he really wanted involved less clothing than Jack would ever be comfortable with.

"Bunny! You're not paying attention to me!" Jack pouted, pushing his lower lip out in exaggeration.

Oh no, he was. A little too much. "Sorry. What was it you were saying?"

Jack stopped pouting, and smiled. "Well, I really only want to make Sandy guilty for his part in things. I mean, he should've been the voice of reason, when you think about it. North's... North," Jack said, frowning and eyes darkening. The white flakes about his pupils all but glowed against the dark blue. "And Tooth... Well, when she was growing up," Jack said, waving one hand. "And, y'know, she's got that crazed and manic fangirl thing going on?"

"I'll pretend to understand what you meant by that last bit," Aster said. "And Sandy dreamlogics, mate, he probably figured all was normal."

"Don't make excuses for him." Jack pointed his fork at Aster's nose, and then scraped up the last of his stirfry. "He's guilty. And he never even checked on you while you were dying!"

"Jack," Aster said, and then sighed. He hung his head. How could he possibly explain to the boy that he didn't blame the others for not checking on him? He couldn't, he realized. _Jack_ had come to check on him, after all, and with less reason.

"Anyways, guilty Sandy. And I want Tooth to get a headache, because she gave me porn." Jack twitched. "Old porn, no less. Not even my kind of porn."

Homosexual, then, Aster supposed. "And North?"

Jack's eyes narrowed, and his upper lip curled back off his teeth. "I want North to suffer."

So long as he had reasonable goals, Aster supposed...


	18. They're Here

_They started with Sandy. Or rather, they started with Sandy_ after _Aster had argued Jack into being reasonable. The Manitou of Winter had been ready, willing, and eager to hold the other three Guardians equally accountable for numerous crimes; when Aster let the boy rant, it became clear that the pranks he wanted to unleash were not just for the misunderstanding that had led to Aster's near-death, or the three months Aster had been left alone, but for every imaginary and real slight that Jack had ever experienced._

_Aster had, in the end, bowled Jack over with greater strength and weight, and managed to get things a bit more reasonable. He did feel that there needed to be consequences, though it was a bit late for the association to be fully there, but not vengeance untold. When he'd called Jack a champion grudge-holder, the other spirit had laughed, and then reminded him that winter was cruel as well as fun, he just did his best to keep the cruelty and harshness locked away._

_With Aster's help, the pranks had been thought out and refined. Punishment had been decided; they had come to an agreement just how much their friends should 'suffer'. Sandy and Tooth both deserved headaches at the least; if they had not jumped on the 'Jack and Bunny getting married train', as Jack put it, the whole incident wouldn't have gotten nearly as bad. Aster was a bit more dubious, but agreed that, at the very least, his three months dying alone also deserved redress, and the pranks they had planned should serve both of their needs for vengeance quite nicely._

_First, Sandy... If only it was easier to collect the main prop!_

* * *

Jack dodged a foot, smacked their captive on the hip with his staff, and growled. "Shut _up_ , Pitch."

"Sandy's not in, mate," Bunny said, with the... dubiously enviable position carrying Pitch's upper body. Sure, it meant dodging a few attempted bites, at least before Bunny gagged the nightmare spirit, but Jack could've walloped Pitch across the head and knocked him out... but Bunny said no.

"Like I want to listen to him anyways?" He hoisted Pitch's legs up a little higher, and groaned. "How much further? Guy's skinnier than I am, he shouldn't weigh this much!"

"Taller, though." Bunny ducked through an oddly shaped doorway made out of - what else? - golden sand. "And he got a wee bit soaked."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Wee bit? What, are you Irish now?"

Pitch squirmed, full body, almost yanking himself out of their grasps. Jack would've let the idiot's head hit the ground... and maybe followed up with a kick to the face, since the opportunity would've been there... but Bunny was clearly the better person. He kept hold of Pitch's shoulders, and sighed loudly.

"I could always freeze your robes," Jack pointed out. Pitch glared at him, and snarled something behind the gag.

"Ah, put a sock... wait. Already done that," Bunny said, grinning.

Jack grinned back, and scowled when Pitch went back to squirming, trying to fight the ropes they'd tied him with. He freed one hand, the better to spin his staff around and smack the butt up under Pitch's chin. It wasn't even hard enough to bruise, mores the pity, but it startled Pitch so much he jerked once in surprise and held still the rest of the way to Sandy's bedroom.

"You'll have to show me around as we leave," Jack said.

"Long as the sand doesn't start putting you to sleep."

Good point. Sandy's castle _was_ made out of dreamsand. And... Jack wasn't sure what it said about Sandy, that his home was a giant sand castle that floated through the air, or what it said about himself that he'd been partially distracted trying to figure out how to replicate the effect with a snow fort.

Bunny managed to get Sandy's bedroom door open, and they carried Pitch in. Jack nearly dropped the nightmare spirit's feet, he was so surprised.

He'd expected yellow, sparkly sand, just like the rest of the castle seemed to be.

The explosion of pink, frills, and glitter... not so much.

Jack's jaw very slowly dropped. "So," he said, looking around. "Did Sandy have anything to do with Barbie?"

Bunny dropped Pitch onto the... massive, fluffy, insultingly pink bed. "Who now?"

Jack hastily let go of Pitch's feet. "Barbie. Y'know, the doll? Little girls everywhere want one? Lots of pink?" It looked like... like a combination of a little girl's toy jewelry box - oh look, complete with 'my first makeup' kit - and like a glitter factory had exploded in the room. The walls were... Okay, still dreamsand, but dyed or painted pink somehow. So was the ceiling and the floor. There were bright pink rugs, the shade of bubblegum, on the floor. The bed was a king sized, four-poster, complete with gauzy pink curtains. The sheets were white, but the coverlet was pink, the darkest shade in the room... so it was a deep, rich lilac color, instead of bubblegum or Barbie.

There were wardrobes, wooden ones, painted white with pink accents. One door was open, and Jack could make out more pink fabric.

"So..." He not-so-subtly started to make a break for it. "Sandy, um, he likes the color, then?"

Bunny chuckled, and slung one arm over Jack's shoulders. "Have fun, Pitch," he called. "I'm sure you'll enjoy the makeover!"

Jack snuggled in close next to Bunny's side, smiling to himself. "I'm still not sure how this is punishing Sandy," he admitted, "But I've got to say, I'm not complaining."

The sound Bunny made could only be described as a 'snicker'. "The headache Sandy'll end up with, trying to court Pitch again, of course."

Sandy and _Pitch_? Jack's eyebrows went up... and then he shuddered. Eeeew...

* * *

_After they had 'obtained vengeance', as Jack insisted on calling it, on Sandy, they set their sights on Tooth. That prank was both easier, and harder, than the one they had played on Sandy. For one thing, all Jack had to do was smile, and he'd obtain the mini-fairies' eager assistance. But their prank couldn't interfere with collecting the baby teeth, or otherwise affect belief in the Tooth Fairy._

_They talked it out, and then hit upon what Jack determined was the perfect plan..._

* * *

"Do they even know what a union is?" he asked, suddenly amused. Initially, the chaotic blur of tiny fairies buzzing everywhere had been annoying; even though he knew better, he kept trying to keep track of each tiny body. Not so hard when there were only a dozen, and even two dozen were somewhat manageable, but _thousands_ , now... That was hard.

And tended to give him a headache.

"Probably not," Jack chirped, leaning sideways and resting most of his weight against Aster's shoulder. "But they think it's a fun idea anyways."

Aster smirked in reply. Most of the fairies were still flitting about, going off into the world to collect teeth - but the ones remaining were clustering together. Long experience assured him that they were talking, no doubt debating Jack's suggestion to them.

"Gonna take a while at this rate," he observed.

Jack's grin was just a touch feral. "All for the better. It'll take longer and annoy Tooth more." He hummed, and rubbed his cheek against Aster's shoulder.

He cleared his throat, and stared up at the sky. He really should tell Jack to stop, but the boy was obviously touch starved and Aster wasn't about to take precious physical contact away from him.

That was all it was. Really.

He focused in on the fairies. Tooth was going to be furious when she found out what they'd done.

Jack suddenly snickered. "They're probably going to be a union-under-a-monarch," he said, when Aster grunted. "Or turn it into a club or something. Nothing like a real union at all."

"Dunno, mate," he said. "They've got the quarters for wages."

At that, Jack started laughing, until he was gasping for breath and half-draped across Aster's lap. "Yeah," he said, twisting to look up at the Pooka. "There's that."

* * *

_With Tooth dealt with, they turned their attention to North. There, they were in nearly complete agreement; it was North that had started everything off, and North who was too oblivious for anything subtle. Jack even, mostly joking, mentioned walloping the Guardian of Wonder over the head with a half-brick in a sock. Aster had countered by saying that all they'd be doing would be powdering the brick and annoying the yeti, North's head was so hard._

_Neither of them were unbiased about North, Aster knew that. And reminded Jack of that fact, several times as they planned. Too many years where Easter had been called a silly little holiday, too many years looking in through a window and_ wanting _a_ family _... Being pet, as if he would no more object to the highly personal touch than a dog or cat would, being ignored no matter how many Christmas letters were sent... The Naughty List and unmeaning, but still there, disrespect._

_As such, it was inevitable that the plot they spun would be harsher to North than the other two, but he was a big man, they agreed. He could take it. And perhaps, just perhaps, once things had been spelled out to him, he'd see fit to at least_ try _mending his ways._

* * *

The yeti revolt was going well - Phil had been surprisingly amenable to the plan, even if he didn't know what they were revolting over. Nor did he seem to care, really - and the elves didn't need a reason to go mad and run rampant through the Workshop. The chaos had at first drawn North out of his workroom - Jack had dragged Bunny up into the rafters, where they'd watched with varying amounts of glee - and then driven him into his office to hole up and hide in confusion. Phil had confided to Jack that North tended to respond to this sort of thing in a predictable pattern: first he'd try to shout the chaos down, then he'd retreat to think, and then he'd come out with some toy or other to distract the elves while he negotiated with the yeti.

And, as Phil had predicted, the first stage had gone off as expected. The second was now underway. Which meant the two pranksters had the opportunity they were waiting for.

Although, Jack thought, grimacing slightly, this was less a prank and more an intervention. Of sorts. Well, the yeti-and-elves part was definitely a prank, but the talking? Intervention.

It was going to be hard, he admitted to himself, to stay on topic. And to not lose his temper. Bunny would help with that, he was sure. Bunny always helped a lot.

Jack turned his attention - and his gaze - to the overgrown rabbit in question, and grinned. For someone who didn't like heights, Bunny seemed perfectly comfortable, crouched over on the rafter like he was. And the way he was crouched over reminded Jack more of a hunting cat than a rabbit; his rather intent expression, the way he looked perfectly balanced between utterly relaxed and ready to spring into action, even the way the fur along his back and spine was partially ruffled.

Thus far, he'd mostly felt... softer emotions, Jack supposed. A warm glow in his chest when he thought about Bunny in general, fond amusement when reflecting on the rabbit's quirks, the general desire to just hang around and enjoy the Guardian of Hope's company. Bask in the general air of optimism that Bunny seemed to just carry around, like Jack carried Joy (and snowballs) or North kept poking into everything, even things that he should leave alone.

At the moment? Fond emotions took a quick backseat to the urge to just _take_ Bunny. Sling him over one shoulder and carry him off, caveman-style. And then do things that, thus far, he'd kept to his imagination and the toy he'd been embarrassed to pick up, but too curious to get rid of.

Bunny looked gorgeous, and it was suddenly equally hard to take a breath, and figure out why he'd never noticed that before this entire escapade.

"Ready?" Bunny asked him.

Jack drew on the control he'd developed over the centuries, forced into dealing with Winter's... winter-ness, and nodded. "Yeah," he said, and spun his staff between his hands. "Let's hurry, before he comes charging out with elf toys."

Bunny nodded, and took the lead, as they'd agreed. They made their way along the rafters, and Bunny jumped from one beam to the next as if he'd done that sort of thing every day for his long life. When they neared North's office door, they dropped down to the floor, empty for the moment with everyone off, either at the yeti's loud gathering, or running wild with the elves.

Jack took hold of the doorknob, and looked at Bunny. "On three," he whispered, and counted. On _three_ , he slammed the door open, and then got out of the way. Bunny leapt through, and there were immediate sounds of a scuffle.

He ducked around the door frame, and watched North and Bunny fight. Or brawl; there was something almost cheerful and good-natured about a brawl, he thought, smiling to himself. Though this one was extremely uneven. Not North's fault, he'd been startled and caught by surprise, and he was apparently reluctant to hit Bunny, at least if the way he kept trying to grapple with the rabbit meant anything. North was built more for punching, Jack thought. And probably trained for it.

Bunny, on the other hand... Jack sighed, and watched the rabbit move with well-trained grace. He had to admire someone who could fight with such viciousness, yet keep it restrained and limited to only causing bruises and shock. Against that, North didn't stand a chance, though he put up a valiant effort.

Once Bunny had North pinned, Jack moved in as they'd planned, pulling a roll of duct tape off his new belt. North's eyes widened when he saw the tape, and he began struggling harder - and yelling in Russian - but with how Bunny had him pinned, he wasn't going anywhere. Or saying anything coherent.

Jack taped North's ankles and wrists together, and then he and Bunny muscled the overgrown wizard into his chair, and used up the last of the tape to secure him in place. By that point, North was silent with the seething fury of the royally pissed off, and was contenting himself with poisonous glares.

"Just what is the meaning of this?" North demanded, once Jack stepped back and hopped onto his staff, while Bunny moved to close the door and then lean against it.

"Well, Nick," Jack said, grinning, just a touch viciously. "We're going to have a little chat. That's what."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the chapter title more applies to Bunny and Jack arriving at North's to wreak havoc, but. Next chapter shall be much fun, and we're coming on to the end of the story!


	19. Feeling Alive

"A talk?" North spluttered. "A talk about _what_?"

Bunny moved forward to take the conversational lead, for the moment, as agreed. "Mostly about you, Nicolas. Your _insistent_ and _aggravating_ overreactions. Your disregard for the effect you have on others. In short, my friend," he said, adding a bit of a mocking sneer to the words, "since you've spent centuries ignoring your shortcomings, we're bringing them to your attention."

North spluttered some more, the visible skin of his face starting to turn a dark, tomato red. Jack hopped up onto his staff and watched with some fascination. Which wasn't his fault, he mentally justified. He rarely paid attention to situations that had people blushing, and then the people he normally watched, the children old enough to play outside and have snow-fights, didn't usually flush angrily. Sure, the exercise and cold would put roses in their cheeks, but roses were several shades of difference from tomatoes.

He probably wouldn't have noticed, or cared as much, before spending so much time with Bunny. Jack looked over at the rabbit, and smiled faintly. He'd noticed a slight change to his frost patterns, too; nothing he could really quantify, but he liked the difference all the same.

Jack cleared his throat, and caught North's attention. "Let's start with the most recent, and most catastrophic, shall we?" he asked. "Bunny went to you to get permission to court me. From what you've said, what everyone else has said, you decided that meant we were getting married. _Without_ asking _me_ ," he added, eyes narrowing. "As if that wasn't bad enough - those gifts! North, you got me lube. Lube!"

" _Nothing_ I said should have suggested to you anything beyond preliminary courtship," Bunny added, glaring. "Did you even listen to me? Or did you just go off on a flight of fancy? Because I'd expect that from Sandy, he's his reasons and they're good ones, but not _you_ , Nick!"

"Everyone could see how you look at Jack!" North said, struggling against the tape. "It was only a matter of time -"

"No," Jack snapped. "It wasn't. I'm straight!" Well, mostly. As far as he could figure, he was straight except when it came to Bunny, at which point concerns about gender went out the window. Definitely a demi-sexual, from everything he'd researched, with heavy heterosexual leanings - but heterosexual leanings wasn't a hard and fast rule. Not that it mattered.

Bunny flinched when Jack reminded North of his primary sexual leanings, and North looked chagrined.

"Well. I did not realize."

"Because you didn't ask. Because you just assumed. I accused Bunny of a lot of things, when I should've been yelling them at you," Jack pointed out. "You just figured I'd go along with it. The same way you figured I'd go along with being a Guardian, when, I'll be honest, I _didn't like you guys_. At all. I figured you were, at _best_ , half a step up from Pitch."

"Oy," Bunny said, quietly. "Really?"

Jack nodded, once. "Not like any of you would give me the time of day. At least you didn't actively attack me."

North sighed, looking guiltier and guiltier. "I'm sorry, Jack."

"Sorry doesn't cut it," Bunny snapped, whiskers bristling. "This is only the most recent incident! And I'm including strong-arming other spirits into joining the Guardians in that. _I_ didn't want to join either, but oh no, you had to get me drunk enough to agree to it."

Wait, what? Jack blinked at Bunny, and shook his head. He'd have to ask about that later; there was definitely a story there.

"But you wanted to join!" North protested. "You were so eager to fight Pitch -"

"Doesn't mean I want to join your..." Bunny made strangling motions at the air. "See, that right there's your problem! You see what's happening, then you re-write the story in your head so it comes out the way _you_ want it. An' I'm sure you want the best for people, but when ya force us down a road we don't want t' take, it's hurtful!"

"Highly," Jack added. "Just because someone's willing to help you stop a bad guy, doesn't mean they want to be friends! And just because Bunny wanted to try courting me and see what'd happen, doesn't mean I wanted the same! Heck, considering how willing I was to figure Bunny'd force me into a relationship, I think it's fairly obvious what I thought about him!"

Past tense, though. Things were different now; he was different, and he knew Bunny better. _Still_.

Bunny cringed at Jack's words, and North looked... old.

"But..."

"No," Jack said. He held up one hand, the better to cut North off. "No buts. The fact is, North, _you decided_ you knew best. And maybe if I _really were_ a kid, you'd be justified in knowing best about a _few_ things, but not about taking a super-massive magical oath, not about who I'm friends with, and sure as hell not about who I date! If I really were a kid, you'd be justified in making sure I had a safe place to sleep - which, for the record, for three hundred years I didn't - and enough to eat - and again, ditto, I didn't."

He paused to glare. "Instead, after three hundred years of being ignored by you, threatened and attacked by your yeti, you decide it's time for me to take an oath that would have _killed_ _me_. Bunny was the only one who, one, picked up on why it'd be a bad idea for me to be a Guardian, and two, protested!"

"Jack didn't have any believers," Bunny said. "And once Pitch reminded the others, they clued in, but you didn't. The initiation ceremony was a joke, a sick joke, and it's taken months for me to clue in just how sick it was."

North's shoulders slumped. "I... you are right."

Wow. Jack was really expecting more resistance, but maybe North could be more reasonable than he'd demonstrated. "Yeah," Jack said. "We are. And, to continue in the same vein here, do you have any idea how hurtful you can be? Without even meaning it. You knew about me. I spent three hundred years on the naughty list. I spent every Christmas I could trying to get your attention."

"And your continual comments about Easter," Bunny said. "You're talking about my holiday - my existence - and you're saying it's not important. That it can't be important. That _I_ can't be important _either_."

North flinched. "I did not mean that," he said. "You are my friend, Bunny."

"Sometimes, you've got a poor way of showing it."

North sagged against the duct tape, and nodded. "I... yes. From what you have said... Yes. I am sorry. I am so very sorry, my friend. And Jack... I am sorry for how I have acted to you, too. It was wrong."

Bunny nodded, and Jack inclined his head in agreement. "Look," Bunny said, and sighed. "None of us can change the past, but we can change how we'll act in the future. I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, that you'll try to change." He eyed North, and Jack knew that Bunny was highly doubtful... but suspected that there really was friendship there now, even if North had stayed out of the Warren while Bunny was dying. And Bunny apparently wanted to keep that friendship.

Jack was more doubtful, but then, he wasn't friend with North, now was he? He sat back on his staff, and watched while North talked quietly to Bunny. Further apologies, most likely, along with promises to at least try doing better. If North tried, he might even succeed, he supposed.

Bunny nodded, and looked over at Jack. "Your turn," he said. "I'll just step out and let the yeti know we don't need 'em rioting anymore."

Jack nodded, and hopped down off his staff. "Sure," he said, and caught Bunny's elbow. "Hey, thank Phil for me?"

"Sure, Frostbite," Bunny said, and patted his hand.

Jack may have watched Bunny walk away, at least until the door closed. But he wasn't going to admit it.

Then he turned to North, who looked confused. "I asked that we have the chance to talk extremely privately," he explained. "Because Bunny doesn't see the problem, but I do."

"Problem?" North asked, and then smiled. Slyly. "You have grown fond of our Easter Bunny, hm?"

Jack felt his expressionless mask slam into place. "Do. Not. Overstep," he snarled, lifting his staff and pointing it at North's face. "Because right now, Nicholas St. North, my wrath is focused on the _appropriate_ party. You."

North stopped smiling. Jack took several steps forward, pulling a little of the energy that was part and parcel of being a Great Manitou forward.

"Because of your actions, I lashed out at Bunny, who was innocent of the crimes I accused him of. Because of your actions - do you know what happens when a Pooka has a broken heart?"

North blanched. Huh, maybe he did. "Bunny's... heart?"

"You didn't know?" Jack asked, his tone giving new meaning to the term 'icy'. "Yes, I managed to break his heart by assuming the worst of him. He nearly died. And you left him alone."

North cleared his throat, rallying, but not all the way. "I did not wish to nearly get beheaded again."

Ah. Maybe he had a reason for avoiding the Warren when Bunny was sure to be in a bad mood. "Not the point," Jack decided. "The point is, if you so much as think of commenting on, insinuating about, or otherwise making mention of anything pertaining to me and Bunny, my wrath will be visited upon you _in full_."

He started prowling around North, expressionless mask fallen away to be replaced by cold - well, of course cold - fury. "You're walking on thin ice, North. I don't think of you as a friend the way Bunny does. I can, and will, break all ties with you. _And I will let the other spirits know why_."

North blanched again. Probably because 'other spirits' meant Mother Nature, who probably wouldn't look too kindly on North, considering. Jack thought back to how she'd talked to him those months ago, trying to explain what Bunny had been about. She was probably fond of the rabbit.

"I... You're right," North said. "Please, I... I'm sorry."

"You should be," he said, letting most of the Manitou power fade. "Furthermore, your actions almost guaranteed that I would hate Bunny forever. Yes, I like him now. I probably would've liked him after a century of courtship. And it wouldn't have come with near-death experiences, hurtful words, or anything else we had to suffer through recently."

North winced. "You are right. You _are_ right, Jack, and I'm sorry. I cannot say that enough."

Bunny cracked the door open, and raised his eyebrows. Jack nodded, and formed a quick dagger of ice. "Actions speak louder than words. A lot louder. And yours, recently..." He shook his head and cut through the tape. "You say you're sorry? Prove it."

North peeled strips of tape off his wrists, and nodded. "I will."'

"We'll see," Jack said, and dismissed the dagger. "Bunny, shall we go?"

Bunny smirked at North. "Have fun wrangling the elves."

* * *

"You can be a right intimidating bastard, y'know that?" Aster asked, far too amused at Jack's dealing with North, and aware of it. That talk with the blooming idiot had gone well, by the end of things. And the apology seemed to have mollified Jack, at least somewhat.

Jack turned and started walking backwards, grinning easily. "Part and parcel," he said, playing with the staff. It seemed to be near mindless, and he made it look easy. The oversized stick spun and whirled as he twiddled his fingers, and of a sudden it hit Aster just _how_ _much_ practice it must have taken to get that good. Centuries, and not centuries spent perfecting chocolate recipes or working on new art styles, but centuries locked out of every home there was, centuries chased off by spirits who only saw the winter part of him, not the laughing hooligan who just wanted to have fun.

Near about everything Jack had said at the end, with only a little adjusting, could easily apply to Aster as well. If he hadn't had his minions toss Jack back out into the snow time and time again, it was only because Jack hadn't tried breaking into the Warren. And... Well. Easter Sunday of '68...

"Jack?"

"Mm?" The boy - young man, and now he wondered if Jack had _ever_ really been a _boy_ \- stopped playing with the staff, and looked up at him. "Yeah, Bunny?"

Two things. "First... My name." He smiled, somewhat wryly. "It's Aster. Not Bunny."

Jack blinked several times, and started tilting his head back and forth, like a dog trying to triangulate on a confusing sound. "Yeah? Um, okay. Why're you telling me now, if... I mean, I'll use it, I'm glad to know it, but... huh?"

His smile broadened, and he reached over to tuck some of Jack's flyaway hair behind one ear. "Everyone else knows, not that they use it. And it only just occurred to me that you don't."

"Well," Jack said, the bridge of his nose getting a few shades darker. "I... guess? I do now. Because... we're friends now, right?"

"I hope so."

"Then we are." Jack nodded, once. "I'm glad, Cottontail."

So was he, though it was bittersweet. Lately he just kept finding more and more reasons to like Jack, to want to spend time with the young man, getting to know him better and better. He was such a cheerful soul - and Aster knew he needed more cheer in his life, if only because he worked better when happy - but there were depths there that could have frightened Pitch Black. Yet Jack fought the darkness within him, had fought it from the very first, without knowing what the rage imposed from outside was, or what it meant, or why he shouldn't give in.

While Aster... He didn't have much to offer to the friendship, never mind anything more. He was old, and grumpy, and good with art. He'd been a right bastard to a young spirit, who'd done next to nothing to deserve it.

"Ah," he said, and cleared his throat. "Jack? I, ah, I should..."

Jack stepped closer. "Should what?" he asked, shifting his staff to one hand. He reached up with the other hand, and rested it on Aster's chest, just above his frantically beating heart.

He had no idea how to quantify the odd look in Jack's eyes, or the way the young man's lips turned up at the corners in that way. And the hand on his chest - the cold didn't bother him as much anymore, he'd noticed when they'd visited North, but now Jack's touch _burned_ and he wasn't sure what to make of it. And yet - his hindbrain, normally ignored, began throwing other incidents up on his mental walls, times when Jack had touched him for no reason, when he'd looked up and seen the other man staring at him with a look in his eyes... very much like this one, in fact.

"Jack?"

Jack smiled up at him, the white specks in his irises twinkling like falling snow in the twilight. "Keep talking," he said, and tilted his head. "I'm listening."

Unaccountably, Aster stuttered, his own tongue turning traitor on him. "Just, ah, just some of, um. Some of what you said to North." Jack was sliding his hand up Aster's chest, to his clavicle and then around to his neck. It was highly distracting. "I only just realized it could apply to me too."

Jack paused in... whatever he was doing, and frowned. "How?"

"W-well, you - ah - when I'd run across you," Aster said, distracted anew by the way Jack was playing with the fur on the side of his neck. "When - I -"

Jack smiled again, and wrapped his hand around the back of Aster's neck.

"And - m'sorry -"

"I know you are, Aster," Jack said, and tugged.

At first, he didn't quite know what was happening. Jack was lifting up on his toes, and pulling Aster down by that grip on his neck, and their lips were pressing together and he still didn't know. It took him a full moment to realize that no, he hadn't suddenly gone delusional, _Jack was actually kissing him_. Ninety-one seconds into the kiss, he wrapped his arms around Jack's back and pressed into the contact, following Jack's lead as the winter spirit worked the lip lock with a passion that left Aster gasping.

At some point he must have fallen down, or been pushed, because he hit the ground rather hard with his arse. Before he could get too indignant about it, Jack was crawling onto his lap, staff tossed to one side, grabbing handfuls of fur at Aster's shoulder and sticking his tongue in Aster's mouth, and there was no point in getting upset over a bit of indignity when _that_ was happening.

He sighed when Jack pulled away, though it wasn't very far. Just a few inches, enough distance that they could breathe, close enough that Aster could always lean forward. Jack had kissed him. It'd be alright to kiss him back.

Jack... had kissed him.

"You look kinda cute when you're confused," Jack said, grinning. "Not like when you're itty bitty and fluffy, but your forehead wrinkles... yeah, just like that... and I can just _see_ the cogs turning in your brain."

"Why?" he asked, ignoring the accusation. He wasn't _cute_. Though when Jack said it, it didn't sound nearly as insulting. "You said you don't like men."

Jack shrugged, and let go of Aster's fur, only to wrap his arms around the Pooka's neck instead. "I don't." He paused, apparently to consider. "Yeah, I still... but you're you, and you're special, and I'd rather you than anyone else." He paused again. "If that makes any sense."

It didn't. It did. He didn't know. "What... does that mean, then?" he asked.

"You complete me," Jack said, and then blushed. Not only did his face flush two or three shades darker - blue, strangely enough, instead of pink - but frost crawled across his cheeks and forehead. "That sounds incredibly corny. Even if it's true."

Aster blinked several times, but no, he had no idea how Jack had come to that conclusion. "I don't... Complete you? How the bloody hell...?"

Jack stopped blushing, and scraped the frost off. "It's... You're _hope_ , Bunny. Me, not so much," he said, smiling wryly. "Sure, I'm determined, but I... I don't know, I guess I'm always watching where I'm putting my feet and you're looking around for the goal or whatever. But I feel brighter, lighter around you. Like my winter isn't so cold, and I don't have to be as defiant of it."

"Poetic."

"Sorry. Didn't know how else to describe it."

Aster shrugged. Fair enough. "You're strong," he said. "Handling three centuries alone."

"I guess. It wasn't like I was trying to be. But around you... I don't have to be." Jack started playing with the fur along Aster's neck again. "Does it really matter? I'm pretty sure I love you."

"Only pretty sure?" he asked, heart leaping in his chest.

Jack's grin was cheer personified. "Well, I've never been in love before, but I don't know what else you'd call it."

Aster swallowed, and leaned into Jack. Pretty sure was good enough for now, he decided, and reached up to cradle the back of Jack's head as they kissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did I even BOTHER with chapter titles for this story? To everyone who titles their chapters regularly, I salute you, because I will not be doing this again with any other story. Tale of Two Pooka is unfortunately an exception, since it's still continuing and looking to go for a long, long time.
> 
> Also, when Handle finishes, I'll be setting all other fanfic, save Tale of Two Pooka, aside while I work on my original fic. Unfortunately it's become clear that I just don't have the time and energy now to work on two-point-five fanfics and the original story, so. We'll have to see what'll happen as I make myself a schedule.


	20. Say Bye-Bye Birdy

Aster groaned, and tilted his head to the side. Jack, his Jack, his _mate_ , took full advantage, and started nibbling up and down Aster's neck, apparently heedless of the fur in his mouth. His slim body pressed up against Aster's, and his scant weight pressed the Pooka into the ground better than lead weights. At the moment, Jack had hold of Aster's shoulders, though a few minutes ago those hands had gone Walkabout all over Aster's body, from sides to hips, stomach to chest, shoulders to arms, and up and down his back.

To be fair, Aster's hands had been just as exploratory. Jack had lost his shirt, somewhere inconsequential. All that pale skin, only a few shades darker than a pristine eggshell, for Aster to touch, to admire, to clutch. And if he happened to admire the way his gray fur looked against Jack's skin, well, he _was_ an artist after all. It should be expected that he'd get distracted by little things like that.

"Bite my neck," Jack mumbled, pausing in his attentions.

"Wha-?"

A nip to his jaw. "I want you to bite my neck. _Hard_. So I bruise."

Aster's heart leapt in his chest, and his hands spasmed against Jack's back. "You're sure?" he asked. "I, uh..."

Jack leaned back, and Aster warred with two conflicting emotions. The first was disappointment, of course, since Jack wasn't nibbling on his neck anymore, but the other was artistic desire, because a half-naked Jack sitting pretty on his lap was too enticing not to immortalize forever.

"What," Jack asked, one corner of his mouth curling up. "Not interested in staking your claim?"

Well, yes, but... "I don't feel I need to," he said.

"Maybe I want to," Jack said, his voice dropping half an octave lower. "Maybe," he added, leaning forward and looping his arms around Aster's neck, "I want everyone to know we're together."

Aster's pupils dilated, but he looked away. Jack picked up on it immediately, which no longer surprised Aster.

"What? What's wrong with the idea?"

"We need to talk."

"Words to put chills down my spine, and not in the good way." Jack frowned, eyebrows almost meeting above his nose. He no longer looked like a sex-dream come true; now he just looked like himself, albeit missing some clothes.

Aster smiled as best he could. "Jack, when'd you start feeling things for me? After you - after you married me, yeah?"

Jack somehow managed to twist his face so one eyebrow got higher than the other, though they still formed a kind of lopsided v-shape. "After I started spending massive amounts of time with you... which, yes, happened after we got 'married'," he said, using air quotes for the last word.

"And yet," he said. "That happened after we ended up married." Without Jack distracting him, he was able to marshal his facts better. Even as his brain threw fragments of thoughts together into something more coherent, he was explaining what he was getting at to Jack.

"How do you know your feelings are real? It could be - I could be influencing you, without meaning to, through our bond."

Jack actually snorted at that, and smirked, his forehead smoothing out. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Oy! I'm serious!"

"I know you are." He traced his fingertips under Aster's eye, and smirked again. "But you told me our bond was one-sided. Me to you. Not you to me. Cottontail, you couldn't influence me through our bond if you tried for a million years."

Jack continued to smirk for the seconds it took for the thought to sink into Aster's mind - it was, he had to admit to himself, something of a relief. He hadn't liked that momentary worry, sneaking in as it had between kisses - but then Jack frowned.

"Though," Jack said. "I guess that means we have to worry about your feelings for me."

That... was quite possibly a good point. It wasn't like Aster had been in love with Jack when this whole situation had _started_. Fond, yes, but not much past the point of friendship.

"I don't think we do," he said, unable to help the doubtful tone of voice.

Jack shook his head, and stood up. "No. It's something we need to talk about. It's... C'mon, let's go grab a drink. If the talk goes good, more kissing. If not, we'll figure things out."

He sighed, and nodded. "Your shirt's under that bush."

The winter spirit's grin was more than a bit wicked, but he collected his shirt without comment.

They headed over to their campsite, which felt more like home than Aster's house had in a dog's age. Aster stirred up the fire; Jack went and got water for the tea. Aster actually got the tea going; Jack collected the mugs. In short order, they each had a hot drink - though Jack cooled his to lukewarm - and sat in silence, taking the odd sip.

"Alright," Jack said, breaking the silence first. Aster had been half-expecting it, and he still started a touch, heart suddenly racing.

From his grin, Jack knew it, too.

"Here's the thing," Jack said, waving his mug carelessly. Some tea sloshed over the edge of his mug, dripping down onto his fingers. If it hadn't been cooled, Jack would've no doubt dropped the mug and flailed about a bit; as it was, he frowned and switched hands, only to lick his fingers off.

Aster stared, groin tightening at the way Jack's tongue, pale pink and soft - as he now knew from intimate experience - curled around each slender digit, the way he sucked each finger into his mouth to get every last drop of tea off. Jack looked up, caught him staring, and smirked.

Though how a smirk could be sad, Aster couldn't have said.

"Like I was saying," Jack said. He set the mug down, so there wouldn't be a repeat. Aster was vaguely disappointed. "This whole situation has been kind of fucked up, if you think about it. I mean." He paused to laugh once, shoulders hunching. "First, you almost die. Then I take care of you for months, creating a magical marriage bond that lets you survive off my energy and, I'm guessing, get a sense of my emotions. And who knows what else."

"I'll agree with you up to that point," Aster said.

"Right, well... Then, turns out I'm demi-sexual, so I don't actually get _interested_ -interested unless I've got the emotional investment first which, let me tell you, was a surprise when said interest popped up for you." Jack paused, and stabbed one finger at Aster. "Not that it's a bad thing! I, uh, I might have picked up something to let me test out the whole gay sex thing, and, uh..." He looked up at the cavern's ceiling, cheeks crawling with such a thick layer of frost his face looked white, as though covered with rice paint. "So, um, maybe, if, uh, you know, _sex_..."

Aster swallowed, and shifted slightly to better conceal his groin.

"You'll be topping," Jack said in a rush.

Oh. _Oh_. Would he now?

"You picked up a _dildo_?" he asked, and ducked his head when he ended on a squeak.

"Just the one!" Jack protested. "You know! To see what it felt like!"

... And now he had the mental image of Jack, testing out a dildo on himself, thinking about Aster while he did it...

" _When_?"

Jack glared at him. "We're getting off topic!"

"You're the one who put it on this topic!"

"And now I'm getting it off this topic, so shut up!"

Aster cleared his throat, and hunched his shoulders. "Fine, fine. Where were we?"

Jack took a determined drink of tea, and nodded. "Me discovering feelings for you. While you, apparently, discover feelings for me. Which yeah, if this were a novel or something, everything would be sure to end on a happy note from this point on... but Bunny, what if you've only developed feelings for me because I've developed them for you?"

Aster rubbed at his face, and then smiled wryly. "We've done quite a bit of thinking in a short stretch of time."

Jack smirked back. "Hey, you started your thinking while we were kissing. Am I really that bad?"

"Like I'd know how to judge?" he muttered, and shook his head. "Jack, does it really matter how we come about our feelings for each other?"

"Consent issues," Jack pointed out.

Good point. Besides, this wasn't some fantasy world, where consequences could be ignored or hand-waved away. There were added complications that were only just occurring to Aster as well, such as how they'd make a long-term thing work, between their respective jobs - and El-Ahrairah's enemies, Jack was a _Great Manitou_ of winter, how the hell did that even _work_? - and their belief bases... It'd be sure to get out to the children, and who knew how they, or more importantly, their _parents_ , would react? He hadn't really thought about it before asking North for permission to court Jack... which had backfired, of course.

He really should have asked Tooth first, or Sandy. Neither of them were quite as prone to such astounding leaps of logic as North. Or overwhelming enthusiasm for said leaps.

"I don't think it's really an issue," Aster said slowly. "Even if you are influencing me, it's at too low a level to be noticeable."

"Which can be harder to stand against," Jack pointed out. "The subconscious can be way more powerful than the conscious."

Point. "Well, what do you suggest? Separating?" Aster bared his teeth at the idea.

Jack looked thoughtful. "Actually..." He stared at Aster, eyes turning speculative. "Sort of?"

"Sort of? What do you mean, _sort of_?" He set his mug down and clenched his fists, the one to keep from crushing the thick, fired clay and the other to keep from grabbing Jack and never letting go.

Jack raised his eyebrows, clearly aware of why he was doing what he was doing, and waved one hand in airy dismissal. "Simple. We divorce. No more bond, no more possibly influencing each other. Then we court. If we keep feeling the same things for each other when things calm down, and we're not living together, and yadda-yadda blah-blah, then we move forward with things."

It... wasn't a _bad_ plan. Aster turned it over in his mind. Remove the bond, which he no longer needed, and remove the possible consent issues. Without any possible, subconscious influence, there wouldn't be any doubt over who felt what, beyond the usual introspective nonsense. Continue to court, since they hadn't even been together thus far for a single _year_ , and hadn't he already thought about how he'd like to get to know Jack better?

They would still be together, just not _together_. They would have time. They would have normalcy, or as normal as things got for a couple of spirits.

"How long would this go on for?" he asked, frowning. "There'd better be a time limit. If we still feel the same at the end of it, I mean."

"Or feel more," Jack pointed out. "I don't know, how long do you think would be reasonable?"

How long could he stand courtship, and no more? "Five decades?" he suggested. If Jack protested, he'd maybe be willing to stretch it to six, but no more...

"Five decades!" Jack yelped, eyes bugging out. "I was thinking six months!"

Well, that was a protest, but not the one he'd expected... Aster smirked. "Alright, three decades."

Jack glared at him. "Oh, come on! A year. I'll go a year."

"We're spirits. We've got forever. One decade."

"I'm an impatient little shit. One year."

Aster laughed, and shifted until he was crouched over on all fours, staring at Jack with a predatory expression. "Give me one good reason why I should agree to even less time?"

Jack smirked back, and licked his lips. "Sooner we get through the courtship, sooner we can get married again."

"We haven't even divorced yet!" Aster smirked back. "Five years."

"Two. We've been through one of the worst things that could happen, _before_ we fell in love." Jack tilted his head to the side. "All we're really doing is confirming this isn't a result of near death and stuff. Right?"

"I don't really want to argue about it," Aster admitted, and reached for Jack.

The winter sprite came willingly, and pressed a kiss to Aster's lips. "Great," he said. "Let's go get that divorce. And then..." He hummed thoughtfully, and smiled. "How about a trip up to Yellowstone?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is awkward. Like, extremely awkward, because I thought there'd be one more chapter, and then the boys basically told me "No. No more chapters. We're done, you get no more. Maybe you can do a one-shot or a sequel or something, but no. There is no more story past this point at this point in time, we're done."
> 
> And since I value my muses, I guess we're done. Am I entirely satisfied? Not really. Can I see any way for the story to continue? Not really. That being said, if I get bit by the sequel bug...


End file.
